


The Art of Groveling

by legendarytobes



Series: Gemelo [5]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon Divergence, F/M, Michaella, Romance, Virgin Michael, romcom, season five, season five AU, the fourteen-billion-year-old virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:26:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 55,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25699522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendarytobes/pseuds/legendarytobes
Summary: After everything has gone so mixed up in Ella's love life currently, she's both about to be wooed and have to learn to woo in return by a certain, currently under probation archangel and former Sword of God...
Relationships: Ella Lopez/Michael, Linda Martin/Amenadiel, lucifer morningstar/Chloe Decker
Series: Gemelo [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832677
Comments: 267
Kudos: 188





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is so wildly divergent it's definitely Fanon/Head Canon by now, but before it gets Jossed and everything...here there be spoilers and spec and things related to season five so be warned for SPOILERS FOR SEASON FIVE below!

**Chapter One**

Michael wasn’t sure this was necessary. Then again, he didn’t get to set the terms for his probation on earth either. If he didn’t agree to what Amenadiel, Samael, and Azrael--- _et tu, little sister_ \---had come up with as his rehabilitation (and what a loaded word that was), then Amenadiel would drag him back to the Silver City all on his own. Michael had hesitated for just a moment because the idea that he would have to obey not just his younger brother but also the First Born, who was not and had never been an archangel, was degrading. He was greater than that.

Except that wasn’t true any longer.

Honestly, Azrael, especially given her new blade, could do more than enough damage to him too as he was. It was hard to remember when he was with all of them, especially Samael, that he was no longer the Sword of God. That of the lot of them, he was the most twisted and maimed. Samael was…Michael still didn’t quite understand what had befallen his brother, why his wings were flatly wrong or living Hellfire burned in his gaze, but his twin was not weak. Quite the opposite. Michael had agreed in part to the terms because Sam had promised that this arrangement would help Michael understand everything, especially the alterations in the other half of the Demiurge.

So, to stay, he had to live with Samael at _Lux_ , go to family dinner at least once a week with everyone, and (this was a point Azrael and Sam were both dead set on) Michael had to apologize to Ella.

But, most of all, he had to see Amenadiel’s human professionally, since Linda Martin was a shrink.

Michael was not amused. He’d never had one, didn’t see the point. Even in his back rooms at his various accounting firms and consulting agencies over the years, he’d had a few colleagues chatty enough to mention their analysts (especially in New York), but he didn’t understand how just talking to one human---even if she was technically family now---could help him in any way.

If Dr. Martin was not the type of medical doctor who could have a hope of helping him fix his wings or his twisted back and shoulder, then there was no point at all.

But it was comply with all his earth bound (or adjacent in Azrael’s case) siblings’ demands or he’d be back in the Silver City and again subjected to the disgusted stares and gossiping of the rest of the Host. Besides, he actually very much wanted to make up his mistakes to Ella. Michael just didn’t have a clue as to how to do that. The mochasplosion had been his best idea so far.

So, it was with great trepidation and annoyance that he took his seat on Dr. Martin’s sofa and as far from Sam’s corner as he could get. They were talking with each other. They weren’t actively punching each other. Michael could even begin to fathom that, despite his initial assumptions, Sam had not gotten off easy and that, in their own way, his wings were as wrong as Michael’s own.

That took the edge off.

It did not mean he wanted to have a long introspective hour to discuss ancient hurts with Samael. Dear Father in wherever He was, Michael might just rather fight the Rebellion all over again.

As they started their session, Dr. Martin held up her hand before Samael, who sitting languidly with one leg over the other as if he were, even now, lazily perched on a throne, and seemed to stop him from talking just as he was opening his mouth.

Michael arched an eyebrow at this tiny human. She was, impossibly enough, even shorter than Ella. He had been called by Linda Martin. A lot. He had received spam levels of emails from her as well. He’d even seen photos from his older brother’s phone with her and Charlie, the Nephilim, and that was a lot to digest as well. However, compared to her son, Dr. Martin wasn’t…or hadn’t seemed so miniscule. It threw him. Besides, it was curious that she could stop Samael from talking.

Perhaps she was a witch.

Odd, neither Sam nor Amenadiel had mentioned that if it were true.

“No, Lucifer. I’m going to set up a few big rules here.”

His twin started to speak again, and she cut him an icy glare that made him snap his mouth shut. Michael’s eyes widened. Oh, she had to be magically inclined. That would explain the first ever Nephilim then. No one could shut Sammy up this well.

“Dr. Martin---” Michael started.

She shook her head. “I’m leading this session. First, I need to get a few things off my chest because the stunts both of you have pulled have affected me personally. Second, I will lay out the rules for you two talking and taking turns.” She arched a wry eyebrow at Samael. “If Michael’s anything like you, taking turns is going to be both hard and key.”

Sam glared at her, but his cheeks went pink despite himself, as if he had been chastened. Michael needed a copy of her spell books. Would that the Silver City had had her low so many eons ago.

“Linda, I’m always a gentleman.”

“Debatable,” she replied. Then, she turned to eye him. “Michael, do you understand the rules? Amenadiel explained you’d agreed to be compliant with therapy and my approach.”

Michael sighed and wriggled on the sofa. His shoulder wasn’t really bothering him today, it was too early for that, but he shifted when attention was focused out of habit, as if the doctor could somehow see his wings even folded away as they were. “Yes, I’ve been given my options. Since you’re part of the package, I’ll do whatever you want, Dr. Martin.”

“It’s Linda.” She shook her head and looked between both of them. “Amenadiel and I are co-parents and good friends.”

Sam deflated at that. “Oh, how terribly disappointing, Doctor. I’d been hoping for the sake of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Angelbaby, that you two had gone back to doing the beast with two backs whilst I’d been in Hell.”

Michael smacked his twin on the back of the head. It was a miracle his brother had attracted such a cadre of dedicated human friends with that idiot mouth of his. “That’s not respectful at all!”

Linda’s lips quirked up a bit before she schooled them back to a stern gaze. “Thank you, Michael. However, I honestly appreciate Lucifer’s sarcasm and sophomoric humor---”

“This is clearly A-levels humor,” Sam replied.

Michael didn’t really know what that meant.

But the doctor continued. “Anyway, I’m still hurt and furious with you for lying to me and for hurting Ella and Chloe so much. I’m not thrilled either of you managed to beat each other up either.”

Samael sat up straight and preened. Dear Dad, when didn’t he? “Then I’m the better brother?”

Linda shook her head. “Amenadiel is my favorite Celestial but nice try, Lucifer. I don’t like how you left things. You gave no real goodbye or closure. Worst of all, you didn’t even ask; there had to be other plans you could have tried, other ways to make this work without trading your life and happiness for Charlie’s.”

Michael blinked. “I don’t understand. Why would an infant be in Hell? There’s no way he could have any guilt.”

Linda frowned at him, and her scrutiny was sharp. Unnerving. “You don’t know?”

“I don’t know much about Hell. I’ve never been, can’t really move between planes with battered wings. So, what don’t I know?”

Samael sighed and started to play with his ring, so like Michael’s own. “The way the throne of Hell is constructed requires a Celestial to rule it, only someone with angel wings---a guess for Charlie at this point true---but only a Celestial can be the king. I’d been gone too long and some of the Lilim got restless. They opted to try with Charlie rather than with me, and that did not end well for them.” Sam offered him a sharp smile, one that indicated the feral nature Michael had glimpsed brimming underneath him.

“That’s why you finally went back. I just assumed you’d gotten bored of your vacation.”

Sam glared at him and those red flames flashed for an instant. “Never. I wouldn’t want to leave the Detective ever if I could help it.”

“Well, if you’d given those of us on Team Celestial time to think, maybe we would have come up with a better solution. You just sacrificing yourself out of nowhere…privately we’ll be talking about that in your own sessions, one-on-one. This was still a form of self-destruction and we have to move past that.”

“Perhaps, Linda, but they needed a king, and I wanted to keep my nephew safe.”

She surprised Michael by standing and setting her notepad down. Then, she trotted over to Samael and hugged him tightly. Sam relaxed in her grip and held her too. “You idiot. We could have figured something out. You’re all about the fine print, so I’m sure there are loopholes, even now.”

Michael considered that earnestly. “I…Duma might actually take the throne for what? You’d only really need fifty earth years, right? Perhaps, sixty?”

Sam blinked back at him even as Linda took her seat again. “What?”

Michael nodded. “My turn to share what you’ve missed, Brother. Things…in Sodom and Gomorrah, things went very wrong for Duma. He no longer talks. He avoids most of the Host as do I but for very different reasons. He might enjoy the quiet of a throne far from them for a while. I would.” Michael said, shrugging stiffly. “Well, I’d do it myself just to not be with our siblings and their rumors and asshole gossip. But I wanted to make things up to Ella, and…”

Sam leaned forward and his voice was gruff but not unnatural as it had been during their fight. “You’re done making the Detective or Miss Lopez your playthings. I took you by her apartment since you seemed to want to offer your apologies, and I approved of that since you’d clearly broken her heart into pieces. However, I don’t think I want you to pressure my friend. Do you, Linda?”

She shook her head and focused on the notepad. “Final rule, I’m not taking sides here, except Amenadiel’s. My purpose here is to help you both understand that your behavior was wrong and hurt all of us here. Also, considering your deep-seated issues and animosities, I think weekly sessions altogether would be helpful in addition to me meeting with each of you separately.”

Samael huffed and leaned back but still picked at his cufflinks. Clearly. “Linda, I meant that Mikey needed therapy. Clearly the pillock’s as mad as a sack of hammers if he wanted to _Single White Female_ me!”

Michael winced at that. His plan had been stupid. With clarity, he could admit that much. Besides, all it had done was serve to make him miserable for almost two months and ruined any chance of something with a surprisingly good human.

Had shattered her heart.

“Lucifer,” Linda said, sighing. “You both have issues so bad between each other that it involves Heaven and Hell and everything in between. I think we need to address that. Besides, Amenadiel complains about your bickering a lot. It’s bringing down my evenings.”

Michael shook his head. “Not completely altruistic, then?”

Linda grinned a bit and then schooled her features to neutral. “I’ve thoroughly mixed my roles as therapist and family and friend. However, you two have a lot to go through, and it’s better if we focus both on you as individuals. Michael as he builds a life here, should he decide he wants to commit that deeply, and Lucifer…you know you still have massive self-destructive impulses we’re just beginning to scratch. However, to be truly effective we also need to do work with you as twins.”

“Do we really?” Sam wheedled.

Now that was familiar.

Linda nodded. “You worked the mortgage murder case. Chloe told me about that one. You could do that or build up enough anger for a vengeful smackdown round three. Let’s just avoid that.”

Samael shrugged. “Flawed analogy, the younger sister did it. So that means we should bring in Azrael too! She might be a murderess, always the quiet ones.”

Michael let out a long, pained breath. “Linda, is this how therapy always works?”

“With Lucifer, usually. However, we’ll deal with twin issues next week.”

“The fact that he’s a manipulative sociopath upset about a few busted feathers should merit attention now…” Samael started.

“My arm, my side, my wings. My issues are a lot more than just feathers, _Sammy,_ ” Michael snapped, feeling his own eyes heat and go gold with the fury and power of the Demiurge. Well, his half of it, such as it was.

“Yes, but you also preyed on my friends and my Detective, and here you are upset because you haven’t tired of working your games against Miss Lopez. I will not humor you and allow you to toy with her heart. If you want to fuck with a human in my life, harass the douche. That’ll be amusing.”

Michael glanced at Linda who studying them both impassively. “Dr. Martin!”

She considered him. “Lucifer put it poorly, but he has a good point. What are your real intentions with Ella? If you are playing any more games, you know Amenadiel will take you home.”

He gripped the arm of the sofa so tightly that it crunched. Then, he looked at his lap. “I’m sorry, doctor, I didn’t mean to.”

“I can replace it, trust me. Twins? Lucifer’s upped my pay.”

“Double?” Michael asked.

Linda smirked. “Quadruple. Amenadiel and I want the little one to think med school.”

Samael shrugged and reached for some Jolly Ranchers in the dish. “Let it never said I’m not generous.”

“But,” Linda replied, steering the conversation back to Michael. “What is it you want?”

Sam grumbled under his breath. “Bloody pain of being equal, yet opposite. Can’t bloody just desire it out of you.”

He cracked his knuckles in front of him and offered his brother a less-than-friendly smile of his own. “Well, be glad I cannot _Command_ you, Sammy.”

Linda groaned. “My eight-month-old is more mature than both of you. Lucifer, nothing under your breath. Michael, please take your time and we appreciate your honesty. This is an open space for communication.” Samael started to open his mouth and she glared at him so sharply that his twin leaned back heavily in his seat. Michael was convinced then. She was magical. “Do not even think of making a joke.”

Michael sighed and tried not to think of how idiotic his brother could be. And exhausting. Instead, he studied his hands and thought about what he was even feeling. It was hard to express because he hadn’t ever quite experienced sensations like this before. He would not---no matter what---talk about matters so personal with Linda, even in a solo session. Michael was surely not fool enough to give Samael fodder here. To let him know that Ella had both in the past few weeks made him feel welcome and normal---well for him---and made him _want_. Made him think of things and have amazing dreams and desire sensations he’d never thought of at all before.

“I…I hurt her.”

“Bloody right you did.”

Linda held up her hand. “Good, you recognize that your behavior was wrong.”

“I do. I…I understand that as angry as I am with Samael, it wasn’t fair to involve you or his human friends in our feud. That I was hurting Chloe Decker and Ella especially with such a ruse.”

Linda nodded. “I wasn’t thrilled either. I must admit I was so worried when ‘Lucifer’ refused to see me in session. I tried to reach ‘him,’” she said, setting down her notepad long enough to make air quotes. “But we’re willing to give you another chance. Doing that with Amenadiel gave me so much. So, Michael, if you really are serious about making amends, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt. Lucifer’s agreed to that too.”

Sam fussed beside him. “I have, but perhaps not trying to pursue Miss Lopez is best.”

“I only want to make it up to her. I…don’t have any hope that she’d ever take me back…not that we were ever together,” he said, his chest feeling tight at that. Strange. “I did apologize, and I get that. But it’s…we used to be friends.”

“Correction, she was friendly to you because she thought you were me and she thought that because you were bloody well lying.”

“I…it was different,” Michael offered.

Samael’s eyes flashed again. “How?”

“Lucifer, let your brother explain. You agreed to this process too.”

“But doctor!”

Linda shushed his twin and regarded him instead. “How was your relationship with Ella different?”

Michael considered that. “She knew.”

“I sincerely doubt, Mikey, you mentioned being the Sword of God to her---”

He sighed and forced his hand to unwrap from the arm of Linda’s sofa. He didn’t want to ruin it any further than he had already. “I’m not that anymore, Samael. I haven’t been that in eons. But, no, I didn’t tell her about me or about us. You made quite sure she wouldn’t have questions.”

“Do you regret that?” Samael asked.

Linda leaned closer. “Do you?”

Michael shook his head, as he thought about Ella’s wide, fearful eyes when her taser hadn’t affected him. She was a believer, so he didn’t think if she knew he was an angel, Ella would be afraid. He was more worried that she would want proof, see his ruined wings, and reject him. Everyone else always had, save for Azrael, but even then Sam was still her favorite.

He had _always_ been the favorite.

“I can’t. I…” he frowned at the doctor. “Aren’t you about honesty, Linda?”

She furrowed her brow, leaned back in her chair, and before she spoke, she offered Sam an apologetic half-smile. “This life…it can cost a person. Once you’re in it, you’re in it. I don’t regret it, but I’ve been burned by your Mother and almost lost my son forever to a demon horde. I wouldn’t want Ella to be dragged into something dangerous. I…it has costs.”

Lucifer sighed. “So compartmentalizing is best. I am merely a method actor to her. It keeps her safe; one hopes.”

Michael nodded. “I just never want her to see my wings. I…she was the only person I let see myself limp around or my arm to fall and not work. She noticed first, knew the signs from her own car accident as a child.”

That perked up Samael’s attention. “Azrael never mentioned how bad it was for Ella.”

“If our dear sister was called, even in error, then it was quite severe, and, Sammy, you can guess that much. I…with her I wasn’t really being _you_ at all.” He offered the doctor a half-smile. “She was the first being I’ve met either with our siblings or in my various crap jobs on earth who didn’t look at me with pity or disgust.” He shook his head. “She is truly good, and I broke that. I was a moron.”

“Yes, well, do also circle back to the point where you were manipulatively snogging my girlfriend too. I’d like to emphasize that point that you’ve done no mortal here a fat lot of good,” Samael snapped.

Linda sighed again and set her pad down. “Lucifer, we’re trying to focus on action steps for next time. Neither of you are blameless in the feud. Neither of you have left Chloe and Ella untouched. The question now is, especially since we promised to take Michael at his word, how do you two make it up to them? What makes an effective apology?”

Michael laughed ruefully and ignored the tightness in his right shoulder. Damn it. It didn’t take much stress to exacerbate it. “I know that mochasplosion drinks and tortilla chips and ghost pepper salsa fail.”

His brother rolled his eyes. “Are you quite daft? No wonder Miss Lopez rejected your overtures. Every good chap knows women love jewelry.”

Linda coughed politely. “Lucifer, do you remember when you tried to impress Chloe away from Pierce? Did anything you buy actually help with that?”

His brother deflated at that. “I…I suppose not. All of that went quite pear-shaped, I admit.”

“So do you think buying Chloe a car now again would help?”

“No.”

Michael blinked. He’d assumed Ella might have been confused. Nope, his twin really was an idiot.

“I suppose an apology needs a far more personal approach,” Samael said.

Linda nodded and smiled at him as if she were about to bestow a gold star on Sam like she would a child. “Exactly. You can’t just buy large, impersonal things you think will appease. You have to show you mean it. There’s more to this process than a giant purchase. Does that make sense?”

“Nothing impersonal! I quite agree, Doctor. How lovely,” Samael stood and straightened his lapels. (They were, of course, already flawless, but his brother was quite the peacock.)

Linda looked at her wristwatch. “I think we made some nice progress. I’ll see you and Michael both for family dinner on Saturday, right?”

Michael stilled, not sure of that. He knew that was a condition, but he’d feel like an intruder or a fourth wheel. Sam and Amenadiel had shared this crazy life with humans over the years. He was a latecomer. Besides, while Sam was no longer beating him up or threatening to exile him back to the Silver City with no second chances---and that was generous, Michael could admit that, his twin was _very_ vocal about how Michael had stolen his life. It kept highlighting that Michael was no more than a hanger-on.

Linda surprised Michael by standing, and she really was so tiny. A tiny kitten of a woman, truly. Still, she walked over to him and squeezed his good hand. “I’d like you there very much. The more uncles for Charlie, the better.” She shrugged. “He’s so, well, unique, and I think as many angels as he can meet is helpful.”

“Not Remiel,” both he and Sam said in unison. And, how odd. They hadn’t done that millennia.

Though, to be honest, Remi really was unbearable.

Young Host, barely any manners, and she had poked at him oh so much. More than once at trial, she’d had the gall to ask why he even had a vote if he was no longer _functional_ among them.

Linda’s calm expression fell, and Michael saw the change in her from Dr. Linda Martin, therapist, to Linda Martin, scared consort for the First Born, a human woman---a wise one but still---who didn’t know yet how to care for a unique child.

For Charlie’s sake and hers, Michael could try.

He got to his feet awkwardly, swaying a little, and stared at the floor once he was up. Linda’s expression never changed, but he could see Samael look away after he spied Michael’s arm lying limp at his side.

Sam could snark all he wanted as a defense mechanism to protect Ella, but his twin felt some guilt for Michael’s wounds. Good, he damn well should have. Of course, like equal-yet-opposite, like the halves of the Demiurge they were, Michael had a similar feeling, a curling of regret deep in his gut when he’d seen Samael’s bat-like monstrosities. He didn’t know how Hell had changed his twin. He’d been too injured himself to notice.

Father had asked so long ago in the Rebellion and…

…The Sword of God, Voice the Presence, and Defender of the Church had complied.

Dear Father, there was so much guilt to go around in their utterly broken family. It was best to start something different. Better. To protect Charlie where they could. Eventually, Father would come back from whatever walkabout he was on and ruin Charlie’s life as much as he’d ruined all of theirs. It was inevitable.

“I would love that, Linda,” he said, setting his left hand on her shoulder.

She nodded and smiled genuinely up at him. “Again, good progress. It’s hard to be vulnerable with others, let alone family. It’s even harder to truly understand and dig deep enough to know what we want.”

“I just want to be at least friends with Ella again,” he added, feeling weak and foolish in a way he hadn’t since he was young (though not small), and Sam’s pranks above had still tricked him.

Sam coughed from his corner of the office by the door. “Well, I know from personal experience that Miss Lopez can be a tough nut to crack. So, Brother, I think you’ll need all the luck you can get. I also think you’ll need to do a sight bit better than nachos.”

“They were chips and salsa.’

His twin rolled his eyes to Linda. “See what I’m dealing with here!”

Linda held up her wrist so they could both see her watch. “I have a three p.m. See you for family dinner…I…please, really think through your apologies for both of them. And remember that forgiveness is just that---a gift. It can’t be forced, and it won’t be on your timetables if at all.”

“And not impersonal, right Doctor?” Sam asked.

She nodded. “Exactly.”

Michael followed his twin out, thinking about what he could do that would show Ella how sorry he was. Perhaps Sam’s attempts tomorrow to beg the Detective for forgiveness for his unilateral retreat to Hell would inspire Michael too. After all, his twin hadn’t just existed on earth but lived for the better part of a decade cheek by jowl with humans. Surely, he had good ideas.

Or, well, at least knew them better than Michael did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Michael wasn’t sure what to make of the scheduled meeting with Chloe Decker. The last week had been busy with first getting caught, then a very cathartic---though not _nearly enough_ \---smackdown with Samael, and then striking the deal with his siblings to stay. He’d been moved into the penthouse and started with therapy. All-in-all mostly family focused and with no reason or invitation to go to the precinct. In short, he hadn’t seen Chloe Decker since his masquerade had been revealed.

He had made a point to go to Ella’s with Sam in tow and apologize. He’d also spoken to Linda Martin first in her home and with Amenadiel crowding her and Charlie so tightly it had been obvious that the First Born had feared Michael would try cuckolding him as well. Or, worse, that Amenadiel thought so little of Michael that he assumed Michael would hurt a human or a child.

It stung, but to be fair, Michael had done that to himself. Lost his brothers’ trust.

Sunk whatever regard his non-Infernal siblings had held him in.

But he didn’t know how to apologize to Chloe. He wasn’t sure she’d accept his words anyway. After all, he’d snuck into her life, taken advantage of her in the nadir of her grief, and essentially been a stranger she’d let unknowingly around her child. However, Linda had been emphatic this was part of his…if not recovery…then his show of good faith to his family.

So he would try.

Even though he tried to look nonchalant half-sitting, half-collapsed on Samael’s sofa (his muscles got so damn sore at the end of the day), Michael was nervous and twitching his good leg in a bid to displace anxious energy. He was surprised to see his twin perched at his bar, passing a tumbler of Scotch between his hands. Sam wasn’t any more sure than he was.

Interesting.

Apparently, his Miracle had not been keen on Samael’s drastic, out-of-nowhere plan to leave forever for Hell.

The elevator slid open and Chloe Decker stalked in. She was dressed plainly in jeans and a baggy blue sweater. When she caught sight of him, she paused and glared between him and Samael. “I didn’t know he was living here.”

Samael stood, and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. His brother didn’t stray far from the bar and seemed to bounce back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Erm, I mentioned Mikey was staying on earth. Honestly, there are apartments below. Amenadiel stayed in one for a while before he moved in with Linda. One’s getting prepped for him.”

That much was true. Michael didn’t know much what type of “prep,” everything would take. He’d always kept things simple. _Spartan_ , if he were honest, but Lucifer had insisted on getting one of the apartments---not the one Amenadiel had held---readied for him. Michael assumed that meant Sammy was going to decorate it in ridiculous flare like his own.

Still, Chloe hadn’t realized that Michael was stuck on Lucifer’s sofa for now.

He wasn’t exactly thrilled with the arrangements himself.

She shook her head at his twin. “You might have wanted to specify _he_ was here. I don’t…I thought we were meeting to discuss us.”

Sam’s shoulders slumped just a bit, and Michael wondered if Chloe had noticed that. “Well, I was rather hoping after we spoke, we could head downstairs and enjoy _Lux_ for a date night.”

Chloe sighed. “I don’t know if I’m up to that right now. You _left_. I know you came back, but if your brother hadn’t shown up, you never would have, would you?”

“I have a duty to Hell.”

Michael tilted his head and watched them both. Chloe stepped closer, and like he, she’d noticed what his brother hadn’t said. Samael wasn’t promising to remain on earth at all even now.

“You’re not staying.”

“I would endeavor to stay for a couple of years. It’s been millennia down there, and I was…to be blunt with the things I did, the demons would be fools to defy me so soon and get a repeat of their punishment.”

Chloe worried her bottom lip. “But you’d have to go back in a year or two. I don’t want to deal with the heartache. I don’t want you to just slip in whenever you please and then unilaterally decide to hop back down to Hell.”

Michael stood with too much effort, and only after he’d fallen to the sofa at least once, his bad leg not quite finding purchase on the floor the first time tried to stand. Working as best he could to walk with some grace---a pipe dream but still---he ambled to Sam’s bar and poured himself a bit of gin. “Brother, if you need someone to sit Hell for a human lifespan…half of one really, then Duma would do it. Have Azrael ask. He has no love for the Silver City, and a few thousand years down below or more won’t be hardship for him.”

Sam frowned and arched an eyebrow back at him. “What did happen in Sodom and Gomorrah?”

Michael shook his head. Not here, not ever in front of Sam’s Miracle. That was too personal, and it was Duma’s story to relay…if their brother spoke any longer. “It was horrific from what others have confirmed. He never speaks now; I think it helps him to cope.” Michael drained his drink. “We all have our coping mechanisms, don’t we?”

Samael grinned. “I preferred copious amounts of sex myself. These days, I still think a good spot of McCallan and a sweet toke will suffice.”

Chloe swiveled her gaze toward him. “Are you serious? Your brother could take Lucifer’s place?”

“Yes, and I’m sure he wants to leave the prying, gossiping Host behind as much as I did.” Michael poured himself another, even if he couldn’t really feel the alcohol. “There is no reason that Hell needs Samael back if Duma takes the slack.” Michael snorted. “I’m not doing anything, but I can’t take the throne so I wouldn’t qualify.”

Chloe frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Oh, how true. She’d not seen the ruins he technically called wings.

Michael’s grip tightened on the shot glass and he had to remind himself not to press too hard or he’d make the whole thing shatter. “My wings are quite crippled, Chloe Decker. I can’t…to rule, a Celestial must be able to fly to the throne…it’s literally somewhere in the hellscape demons cannot reach. That’s what Amenadiel and Azrael have both told me. Am I wrong, Sammy?”

His brother nodded. “I surmise Dromos thought he could wait about eighteen years before Charlie could literally take it, and that wasn’t out of the question. But if Duma would---”

“I’ll ask Azrael. It shouldn’t be difficult to swing. Honestly, Sammy, if you’d ever learn not to make rash decisions without asking the people you claim you love---”

His brother narrowed his eyes. “This is not the time for Rebellion talk.”

Michael wanted to snap that of course Samael could forget it. He’d been left unscathed, but those were old, wrong assumptions he’d had before he’d borrowed Sam’s life for a couple months. Now, Michael knew better. Had seen the living hellfire in his twin’s gaze and the monstrosities erupt from his back. The Rebellion had irrevocably changed both of them, and from at least mutual ruin, perhaps the Demiurge might one day find true common ground.

Michael shrugged. “I guess it’s not. But yeah, I’ll get that started with Azrael as the intermediary.” He stood, even as his right side screamed in pain. Then, hobbling a little, he walked to Chloe and held out his hand. “Chloe Decker, let me arrange what I can with Duma. It was wrong, what I did. I had my reasons, but it was petty and cruel to play with innocents like you, Ella, and Linda. I apologize.”

Chloe at least took his hand and shook it. She still looked at him like she very much wished she could punch him square in the jaw, but at least she’d taken his overture. “Thank you. I…we’re not good. You do understand that?”

“I am going to prove to Sam’s friends as well as to my family that I’m not here to harm anyone.”

“I hope that you do, Michael.”

It wasn’t a warm reception but with the way he’d played with her mind and affections, he couldn’t blame her. Honestly, as long as the detective didn’t try and shoot him, Michael was taking it as progress in their actual relationship. It would, as he’d heard it, also put him ahead of Samael.

“Yes, well, if you and Sam have to talk---”

His brother nodded. “That would be lovely to give us space. The bar below has an open tab for you, of course.”

“How generous,” Michael said, and he figured he could get a few more drinks, maybe just switch to soda for all the good alcohol did him. Besides, the nachos were good. Not quite the quality of corn chips he’d had out with Ella and…he tried not to think too hard about her. It hurt. “Sammy, Chloe,” he said, giving them both a curt nod before turning to the elevator.

It took him a while when his right side grew tired and, to be blunt, dragged to get across any expanse of space. So, he was privy to his twin saying he was sorry to the detective, taking her hand, and presenting her with a diamond necklace with a main stone that was roughly the size of a marble.

Michael was impressed. Perhaps, his twin had taken Linda’s advice well. A car was impersonal, that was true, and maybe a diamond was Chloe’s birth stone and---”

He was then treated to the confusing and seemingly impossible sight of a _mortal_ (one blessed by Father but still one nevertheless) slapping half the Demiurge. And then seeing Samael rub at his cheek as it grew pink. Michael stopped at the elevator’s control panel and gawked between them both.

“Detective! Chloe,” his brother said, his tone pleading. “I am truly sorry for leaving so suddenly. I was trying to protect you and Charlie. I admit that I might have done it wrong, but I had the best of intentions.”

Michael snorted. “Yes, Sam, and you know better than anyone where those lead.”

Chloe shot him a glare that made Michael shut his mouth. And just _how_ had his twin managed to gather such fierce women to him, he wasn’t quite sure. The humans whom Sammy had chosen to surround himself with were intriguing for mortals. Ella especially, Michael could admit that, but he could see the steel in both Linda and Chloe that had made them suitable friends for the First Born and the very former Lightbringer.

“No, you don’t get to just buy your way out of this one, Lucifer. My heart was broken for _months_. I…I want to start over. I mean, after everything that happened, we can’t forget about the stops and starts, but I don’t need jewelry. I just need you. But I need you to understand you can’t make decisions for _us_ and flit away to heaven or hell---”

“Sam’s not allowed above. He can get near the gates, I suppose,” Michael interjected.

His brother’s eyes flashed red at him, and it was still disconcerting as fuck. “Don’t help, Mikey.”

Chloe shook her head, handed the necklace back, and made impressive speed back to the elevator. “No expensive gifts to try and butter me up. I just want you. Get things squared with Domo.”

“Duma,” Michael corrected but fair enough. Sometimes human names were weird and confusing to him even now.

“Yeah, do that, and we’ll start simple. I…you need to know by now you can’t just buy me diamonds, and I’ll let all be forgiven. I’m not into stuff, not like that.” She eyed Michael as she slid into the now open elevator. “Michael, are you coming down to _Lux_?”

Michael shook his head. “Clubbing isn’t exactly my idea of a great time,” he admitted.

It stung a bit to have Chloe Decker’s eyes dart even for a moment to his bad side. Still, he gave the detective credit for recovering quickly.

She nodded. “Well, I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Lucifer. Michael, just I think it’s best if we don’t see each other a lot.”

He had the decency to look at his shoes. “I guess we’ve seen too much of each other already.”

“I knew it! You bloody bastard!” Sam shouted.

Michael sighed even as he stepped back from the elevator with its doors sliding shut before the detective’s face. Chloe beat him to an answer.

She snorted and shook her head. “No, there was a case where we both got sewer mess all over us. I saw him shirtless for about a hot minute before we got some spare scrubs from the nearest hospital.”

His brother nodded. “Good then or otherwise I’d have to have actually finish our fight from eons ago.”

Michael sighed and dragged his leg all the way back to his bed/sofa. Dear Father, let Samael and his designing needs rectify themselves soon enough with his apartment. He didn’t need to be _this_ underfoot with Sam. By the time he got there, the elevator was already descending to the club floor.

His brother said nothing for a while but poured himself a double shot of Scotch. Samael drank all of it and then lit a cigarette pulled directly from a silver case---what else for someone as obsessed with appearance as Sam---and lit it up. He smoked for long, tense moments before turning and glaring at Michael.

“Don’t say a sodding word.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“I’m quite serious. Not one word.”

Michael frowned. “I’m confused about what you did wrong. It wasn’t a car. I mean, I’m really fond of _Gentlemen Prefer Blondes_.”

Samael blinked at him. “I beg your pardon.”

“Movies? The more noir or Golden Age, the better, as far I care. So, I thought ‘Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend,’ or was I wrong about that?”

Sam finished his cigarette and lit the end of a second one from it. “You’d think, but some women are more complicated than even I could have guessed.” He arched and eyebrow at him. “What about you and Miss Lopez. You weren’t so desperate as to copy my idea, were you? Granted, I can tell you just copy my ideas anyway…try and steal my life…all of that rot.”

Michael winced a little. Note to self, Samael was going to be bringing that up every time they had even a tiny argument. He’d earned that as his penance, but what he’d done was shameful. Beneath even the most broken of the Host, and with a clearer head, Michael was embarrassed keenly by all of it.

“I wasn’t! I didn’t think…I’m going to try and get Ella to understand, that’s all. I hope she does.”

His brother took a long drag on his cigarette. “And if she doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll accept that too, eventually. I’ve made my messes, but I really did like her.”

“And not just as a way to mess with me?”

Michael bunched his good hand into a fist at his side. Sam would always be the best at getting under his skin, even after low these many millennia. “Not everything is about you. Ella…nothing with her was about you at all, Brother. Try not to be so vain.”

“But if you hurt her, just so you remember, you _will_ answer to me, Mikey.”

He nodded. “If I hurt her again as badly as I hurt her by pretending to be you, I’d ask Mazikeen for one of her blades and allow you to go to it.”

His twin nodded and stomped out his butt in an ashtray. “Good, see that you try and make her happy. She’s one of the best souls I’ve ever met. I want it to stay that way.”

Michael scowled long after his brother had gone down to the club and his adoring public. The spotlight was the _last thing_ Michael had ever wanted. He had enough stares already to last the rest of eternity. But Samael had always both been a showman and so desperate for attention.

But his words had stung more than his twin had probably realized. At least their implication. Ella was a good soul---Michael agreed with that whole-heartedly. However, the Devil, of all beings, was certain that Michael’s own twisted, battered essence was no good for her. Could be a contaminant.

The bitch of the whole thing was that, deep down, Michael wasn’t even sure Samael was wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Ella didn’t love _Java Java Junction_. It was a decent enough kiosk in the lobby of the precinct. It was way better than being desperate enough to actually drink from the break room coffee pot. She’d done that just once when she’d transferred into the station, and nothing had tasted right for almost three days. But at least the small stand delivered coffee that was still edible and tasted recognizable. None of the mochasplosions with extra sprinkles and whipped cream like she used to love but, totally honest, over the last week, she’d turned down at her favorite place because it just reminded her of Michael, his bribes, and the fact that he had never been Lucifer to begin with and had been playing her from the start.

Stupid Michael.

Honestly, stupid Lucifer for leaving town and not saying _palabra uno_ to her. In a small way, she couldn’t help herself from also thinking stupid Ella too. She should have known faster somehow. Not that Lucifer had mentioned that among his tons of siblings he had a twin brother.

But she’d been a very gullible idiot.

And now she was an idiot standing at one of the three tiny tables about as tall as her chest (she was short; it sucked) in the precinct’s main lobby. Sipping a couple double espressos she’d ordered as they had another long case and scarfing into a banana nut muffin, Ella was grateful for a break. Their latest case was a doozy and she felt like she hadn’t had a real break in days.

Even when she had a free spot in her schedule, she couldn’t rest. Oh no.

Because Lucifer kept looking at her with those stupid, dumb, totally _tonto_ , brown puppy eyes of his through her blinds. No way. He didn’t even breathe _a word_ to her, just abandoned her like she wasn’t as good a friend for him as he was for her, left her vulnerable since she’d never had a head’s up about the twin thing, and now expected since he was back that they could just start back like nothing had happened.

Well a fuck ton had happened!

Honestly, she didn’t like how Dan talked about Lucifer (um, now that Lucifer was back, not that Dan had ever known the difference). But he did have one point. There was no guarantee Lucifer wouldn’t runaway again. He’d gone to Vegas for a couple weeks once, and last summer, he’d gone to Ella _still_ had no idea where. She figured that since both twins had used it as the excuse, it really had been business for their Father. But what? Unless he was in like the Antarctic or the deepest expanse of the Bolivian salt flats, dude should have had a cell that worked.

Then again, that was assuming he’d wanted to actually talk to her.

Which for almost eight months, Lucifer obviously hadn’t.

Sighing and deciding she wished she’d ordered a hot Chai Tea to lazily sip for the full course of her break instead (she couldn’t say yes to a third espresso), Ella dug into her muffin. She’d only taken her second bite when someone coughed behind her.

At first, she’d assumed it was Lucifer getting back from the latest witness questioning, and he’d diverted to here in his about hundredth time this week to apologize. However, when she turned around, Ella knew exactly which twin she was looking at. Even if the turtleneck and the rigid set of Michael’s posture, with the way his right arm hung inanimate at his side, weren’t huge honking clues…well, he just _felt_ different. Lucifer looked at her like she’d kicked his favorite puppy because she wasn’t accepting his apology with no questions asked this time. Michael looked at her like she was some kind of goddess who’d hung the moon.

Ella gulped at that.

She’d never had any potential significant other---guy or girl---look at her like that. Honestly, she’d only had one relationship back in Detroit that had really lasted any at all. She was more than gun shy about trying anything after Frederico. And that was _before_ Michael decided to play with her.

She had enough trouble keeping reality straight and fearing that her ghost friend was a figment of her imagination, even now.

She did _not_ need to still be half-sure she’d tasered the man before her, and he’d barely blinked. Surely that had been a dream, right? It was so confusing and muddled and she didn’t need Michael Demiurgos either.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, making a point to push her plate to the other side of the tiny table just in case he assumed he could stand with her.

Michael blushed---and no she didn’t care that he looked cute with his cheeks flushed like that; she did _not_ \---and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “I…Sam forgot his phone at home. He asked me to bring it to him.”

“You came here all the way from _Lux_ to do that?”

Michael sighed. “I had nothing else to do today. I…so far I haven’t figured out what my next step will be with establishing a life in Los Angeles. So without a job, I didn’t mind getting a rideshare here to help Sammy out.”

Ella frowned and crinkled up her nose. “If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth or just get weird and all Evadey-dude on me?”

Michael quirked his head at her sharply, and it was like watching a bird of prey make the gesture. So piercing. “It depends, I suppose.”

She hated that right now about both twins. The non-answer answers. Oh, and the answers she did get made sense. Like don’t even get her started on the different last names; although, to be fair, she assumed that Morningstar was a stage name.

Still, Ella had always been curious, and she couldn’t resist. “Okay, I guess I’ll take the risk. I…why do you call him ‘Sam?’”

He considered the question a while before speaking. “Because that’s his actual name. I mean, back when we were young, Father called him ‘Samael.’ It was mother who nicknamed him ‘Lucifer,” and he always liked that better. But to me, he’s always been Sam or some variation. I guess he gets his own jabs back in there by calling me ‘Mikey,’ which I’ve never been fond of.”

“So I shouldn’t call him ‘Sam?’”

Michael chuckled warmly. “No, I wouldn’t. He doesn’t love me doing it either, but I just don’t care. I think I’m the only one in ages who’s even bothered with it. Even our little sister Azrael calls him ‘Lu’ at best.”

“Oh, wow, your parents are big on that name theme, huh? All the ‘els?’”

Michael nodded briskly. “You have no idea.”

Ella frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. Damn it, he was here, being disarming and getting her to talk to him again. She was supposed to be better than this. Just the other day at lunch both she and Chloe had promised to work with Lucifer, be professional with him, but they both were waiting for a real apology. That went double for her and Michael. Well, he’d said he was sorry at her place, but she hurt too much to want to be around him. Most of her---only about 80% if she were super honest---did wish he’d leave. About a traitorous fifth of her wished he’d hang around.

She took a moment to remind her heart to stop thundering in her chest.

It was all _locuras_ anyway. Michael wasn’t worth it. Nothing he’d told her was actually true, anyway.

Well…maybe one thing.

“Can I ask something else?”

He looked at her again with such awe that she wondered how that was possible. She was just Ella and even Frederico had never been that taken with her. Why Michael would focus on her so hard, so fast…well, Ella had no idea. She was nothing special.

Maybe something a little too nuts, to be honest, if she were anything at all.

“You can ask me anything, Ella. I might not be able to answer it. Everything with my parents and my family is incredibly complicated. I…that’s why I’m seeing Linda.”

“Is that ethical? She’s your nephew’s mom, _and_ she’s Lucifer’s shrink too.”

Michael shrugged. “For my issues, she’s probably the only qualified person around. Also, she’s trying to get us to do a family therapy thing. Mostly me and Sam, but sometimes Amenadiel too. It’s the reason my siblings let me stay and didn’t run me out on a rail.”

Ella perked up at that. If he was going to make amends---if he was really honest about it---then working with Linda and getting over some gnarly family feuds would be a start. “Well that’s good.”

He stood up straighter at that, with as much confidence as a preening peacock. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Yeah, um,” she said awkwardly as she tried to get back to her train of thought. “I mean, as far as the question goes, the new one, um whatever. I just…was what you said about your right side true?”

Michael sighed. “Alas,” he said raising his arm, but even with his best efforts or so it seemed, his right fist barely cleared the tabletop. “Samael packed quite the punch a long time ago.”

Ella stilled at that. It was a side of her friend she’d never thought of before. She didn’t know what had passed between the brothers, but it had to have been a lot and pretty twisted for Lucifer to have hurt Michael as badly as he had and then for Michael to try stealing Lucifer’s life as payback.

“I’m sorry.”

Michael offered a stiff smile, and maybe she’d talked too much. She had a habit of doing that, just ask that rat Pierce. Not that you could, and she definitely didn’t miss him.

“You didn’t do it,” he said. “I’m still mad a lot with Sam, but we hadn’t realized until we saw each other again how much we’d hurt each other. That’s why I think Amenadiel overrode everything as big brothers do and said I could stay. I think it’s also why Linda is pushing so hard for twin sessions. I can admit there’s a lot unsaid between us, and I’d rather talk it out---now that I’ve gotten in a few good hits of my own.” Michael smirked at her, and it was the most like his brother he looked. “But I guess punching only gets you so far.”

“I know the feeling. I…sometimes when I was younger I found a lot of relief in things I shouldn’t have---breaking into places just to chill out in cool spots after hours, gambling and I’ll admit it counting cards, and then there was the stealing cars. I was lookout first, but then Ricardo taught me how to boost them and for a while it was the coolest thing!”

“What put you on the straight and narrow?”

Ella shook her head and thought of Rae Rae, who, for all the complications the ghost had brought into her life, had also blessed her with some good. She never would have moved to L.A. and made her best friends without her or had such a good precinct to work in. Besides? Crime in Los Angeles was crazy. She was still trying to figure out what the feathers all over the loft a couple years ago actually were. They look like bird feathers, but they were too damn big.

And under the microscope? So mondo weird.

“A friend,” she finally said, hoping she didn’t sound weird for having paused too long. “She wasn’t feeling my risking the law, and she blessed me out. _A few times_. I got my act together and went to college to study forensics and the rest ended up being history.”

“I probably need to start looking for accounting firms to apply to, myself. I could live off Sam’s generosity, but that wouldn’t feel great long term. I’m trying _not_ to let him define me, so I can’t do that and live rent free in his place, you know?”

Ella nodded. “Never really bothered Amenadiel from what I could tell, but good for you! I…look I need to get back to my lab.”

Michael hesitated and let out a small, pained sigh before pulling a box from his right pants pocket. “Ella, I got something for you.”

“It’s not tortilla chips is it?” She joked. “I’d feel really wrong taking something from you.”

Michael frowned and set the box on the table. “You could look at least. And why would you feel wrong? I thought…even though I really was here for Sam’s phone problem…I thought we were doing better.”

Ella frowned. “You didn’t plan on seeing me today for real?”

Michael shook his head. “Oh, cause of the box. No, that’s not why I had it, to be honest. I got this a few days ago because I saw how Samael apologized to Chloe, and Linda said to be more personal about things and I just…I thought you’d like it. I was so nervous about it, I haven’t had it off of me since I got it delivered. I figured I’d find the right time eventually.”

He blushed again and Ella really needed to get her libido in check because now about 40% of her wanted to forgive him and kiss again and nope, no, no way. Just a world of no to that idea.

He couldn’t use her, confuse her, and break her heart.

Not at all.

But she was genuinely intrigued to see what Michael was so clearly proud of and even more morbidly curious to see what it was. “I could check. We’re not even friends again. I can’t take something nice from you because I don’t feel the way you do, Michael,” she explained, opening the box to be polite and then clapping her hands a little in her excitement. “Oh, that’s so cool! I’d know that hexagonal structure anywhere. This is a caffeine molecule pendant. I’ve seen a few on Etsy before. Awesome!”

She stopped herself just shy of reaching for the fine silver chain and slipping it on. _No, Ella, play it cool. You are not a pushover anymore_. Hating herself a little, even if Michael had been the one to mess it all up, she frowned and put the top back on the box. Then she shoved it across the table to him.

“I can’t accept this,” Ella added.

“You could,” Michael said, although his tone went up a bit at the end of his words, as if he weren’t sure and was asking her for confirmation.

“It is sweet, and, honestly, way more personal or thoughtful than what Chloe said Lucifer tried to pull with like the bigger diamond the better.” She crinkled up her nose again and laughed. “He doesn’t really learn much. I saw him do that kind of stuff with Pierce and like this one time last year he got her a printer/copier.”

“A printer isn’t very romantic, but they’re fairly common,” Michael asked a crease appearing between his eyebrows as he seemed to try and understand what had inspired Lucifer to get a gift like that.

Fuck if Ella knew.

“Normally? Sure! But it was the huge jobbers that like go in the office, like stand as tall as me and weigh hundreds of pounds? I never get his choice on those ideas. I…you do know me better than I thought, but it really hurt, and some of it, well…I keep thinking things happened that didn’t because I was stressed at work from you and passed out and I just---”

She frowned again and patted his left hand. Ella didn’t care which she would have touched, but she worried he was self-conscious of his right. She couldn’t blame him. Before her leg had healed, it had made her really anxious and snippy even when her mom or abuela would try and rub out the knots in it when the cramps grew crippling.

Sometimes, you didn’t want any reminders about that ‘the bad limb’ at all.

“Michael, you really hurt me, and I need more than a week to think about it. I do appreciate you apologized with Lucifer. I think your necklace for me is sweet, but I can’t take it and keep a clean conscience, not right now.” She reached up and tightened her ponytail a bit, making sure it peaked up higher, just to have something to do with her hands. “I just need to be able to trust you, and that’s going to take a while and I mean for both you and Luce…um…ifer. It just really hurt a lot.”

“I am sorry.”

She nodded. “I know you are. You must be pretty sorry for everything that happened to agree to go to therapy twice a week and let Lucifer and Amenadiel dictate how everything is going to go for you.”

“I wouldn’t say dictate, exactly,” Michael corrected, rolling his eyes. “I would more say that I’m deferring for a while to my older brother’s ideas. I wouldn’t ever really listen to Sammy. I’m the eldest between us.”

Ella laughed. Okay, he had her there. “What? By like a minute?”

“Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds. It’s a long time, and so, Samael should listen to me.”

Despite everything, Ella giggled again. “Lucifer listening to anyone else? Yeah, good luck with that. I can’t even get him to wear gloves at a crime scene. Well, except this one time. Huh, that must have been weird, I…that case was an identical twins’ murder---uh, maybe no ideas there”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Just end up Leighton Meester-ing his life.” Of Michael’s blank stare, Ella stammered a little. “She was on _Gossip Girl_? Not really my kind of show but her band did the theme song for _Snakes on a Plane_ and it’s like the funniest movie and I love it, but the point is she made this one called _The Roommate_ , and it was all about how she tried to take over her roommate at college’s life by copying her. It was pretty crappy, so I can see how your _ojos_ missed out on that.”

Michael smiled down at her, and _rayos_ , it got hard to keep asking for space when he looked at her like that. Like she was special, instead of broken. “I like it when you talk that much. You’re so passionate.”

Ella sighed. “Trust me, I’ve had about everyone I’ve ever met say I talk like way too much. Maybe not Lucifer, but he probably talks more than I do. Anyway, I can’t accept the gift, but one day maybe we can be friends, you know?”

Michael’s face crumpled but he had to understand what he’d done had violated her trust so thoroughly, had been built on false pretenses. Except for her big ghost seeing (just the one) secret, Ella was a pretty straight shooter.

She still wasn’t sure what to make of Michael, and she couldn’t give him false hopes till she did.

He recovered his previously calm demeanor and gave her a small, courtly bow.

Yeah, even if it wasn’t obvious, she could see the family resemblance in both twins’ old-fashioned manners.

“Then, I’ll keep working on that, Ella. See you later.”

She was so busy with her feelings and inner turmoil making her second guessing if she should have let him leave, that it was only after he’d left the precinct altogether when Ella realized he’d left the necklace behind.

Damn.

Well, she’d have to hide it away in her lab in case. It was too nice to let it go to waste, but she’d return it next time she saw him. It just needed a home.

For now.

Total temporary deal.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Michael had, perhaps, been jealous of the wrong brother.

Or, alright, perhaps he was petty but also self-aware enough to admit that he could be jealous in different ways of both Amenadiel and Samael. Even if Sam had suffered in Hell---and clearly he had changed in ways even now Michael could scarcely understand---Michael was still jealous of him. While his bat-like abominations (they could _not_ truly be called wings) were worse than the half-measure that Michael had been left with, Samael still had human friends who would do anything for him, a sense of family again with Amenadiel and even a bit with Azrael, and was quite the attraction at his own club. Not that Michael wanted attention. He did not. But above all things Sam could _pass_ as normal. It took every bit of effort Michael had to fake it for eight hours at a time, and he always paid after when the spasms on his right side returned with a vengeance.

But he was realizing as he sat down on the couch in Linda’s comfortable and tastefully styled Southwestern-looking home, that he was almost as green with envy over Amenadiel’s life as well. Not that his older brother was romantically involved with Linda, as far as the doctor and Samael both told it, but it was a lovely home and a very loving one, and he could tell from the plethora of toys littered around the floor and the food already stacked on the island (Amenadiel had forgotten to have enough sausage for the lasagna and was out for a quick grocery run), that Linda’s abode was one in which both the doctor and his brother took pride in being parents.

And that Charlie was clearly the apple of both their eyes.

Once, long ago, he had felt that kind of joy and dedication to their children must have been true for Mother and Father. Then Father grew so obsessed with that humanity project of His, and Mother grew psychotic. Samael, being the most sensitive at least among the older Host, had Rebelled, and things had snowballed from there. But there had been warmth and love there before.

Michael barely remembered it, but it had been there.

Now, he could see that love---that long ago kernel of it that had created the multiverse---alive, well, and being nurtured between the First Born, the doctor, and the only Nephilim any of them had ever heard of.

Yes, both his brothers in their own ways had created lives for themselves on earth. Michael wasn’t fool enough to see them as perfect, especially after more than two months living near them all up close, which was so different from gathering facts from afar. Amenadiel and Linda had some room to go before they figured out if they were only ever going to be co-parents or also accept the attraction between them that even _he_ could see. As for his twin’s road bumps, well, Sammy was having no more luck getting Ella to accept his apologies as a friend or Chloe Decker to accept a huge “I’m sorry” via diamonds either.

But the women would forgive Sam.

Eventually.

That was how Sammy was. The Favorite. The special one, the one who literally brought stars into existence and made darkness into light. People, angels, demons…it mattered little. None could help but avoid his charms for long.

Michael wasn’t sure he knew how to be like that. Scratch that. He knew he wasn’t like that. Even before his maiming, Michael was serious and focused, a counterpoint to Samael’s antics and charm. He was only more withdrawn now. But he had never been the fun one. However, now Michael wanted to have what his brothers had forged with mortals. Ironically, he’d actually lived among humans the longest and had little to show for almost forty years in differing cities but a damn fine credit history and a series of jobs in backrooms that all blended together.

Granted, he’d never tried to interact before.

But now that he wanted to, he was still stymied as to _how_.

At least as Sam helped Linda set out the Scotch and wine as well as cheese and crackers on her coffee table, it gave Michael time to bond with his nephew. Charlie was awake and had a set of comically large, brightly colored plastic keys in his mouth as he swung back and forth in a contraption Michael took to be a swing. It was rather complicated considering the baby who used it was barely eight months old. However, of all things Michael was jealous of his brothers for Charlie might have been number one.

The Nephilim was endearingly cute, and while Michael never thought with his mangled body and tarnished soul that he’d be any good at being a father---that he had any hope at all of being able to be kind and loving when the Presence had abandoned him---he did admire Amenadiel’s hope. Perhaps the First Born was naïve, and only tragedy followed in a Celestial’s wake, but how could Charlie possibly be a bad thing? How could one _not_ hope watching him smile? Erm, or in this case, drool a bit on his key ring.

Reaching out with his good hand, Michael tickled Charlie’s rounded belly. The child dropped his keys onto the tray of his swing and giggled loudly. The baby looked up at him, and Michael had to smile despite the glistening drool working its way down his nephew’s cheek.

“You’re really cute, kiddo.”

Samael snorted as he sat at the chair in the living room as far as was physically possible from what he still insisted on calling (for whatever reason) the Teenage Mutant Ninja Angelbaby or, sometimes, the rapscallion. Michael usually just called him “Charlie.” But that was Sammy and his insistence on special titles and nicknames. He’d been terrible at blending in with Chloe Decker at her home because, honestly, why not call Trixie Espinoza “Trixie?” Also, why the Hell was that girl so upset when, at first, he _hadn’t_ insulted her by calling her parasite, spawn, and offspring?

But that again was probably part of Samael’s gift of gab. People loved him, even when he was at best damning with faint praise and, quite bluntly, insulting them to their faces.

“You’ll get your hand wet with germs!” Sam added, shuddering as he folded himself in his chair.

Linda glared between them. After setting out the snacks and drinks (and Michael was grateful water was also among the offerings, he’d had enough of a day with Ella’s rejections and didn’t need a reminder that he wasn’t _normal_ and Scotch wouldn’t work on him, not really), the doctor pulled out a wipe and cleaned off Charlie’s ample, rounded cheeks.

“He’s not full of germs, Lucifer.”

“Well, have you checked, Linda?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Sammy, a bit of baby drool can’t hurt you.”

“It can hurt my Burberry!”

Michael considered his twin. Today his brother was, as always, in a three-piece suit with a bright violet pocket square that brought out the purple highlights in his dark mauve suit. It was quite a lot to wear to a family dinner where Italian was on the menu, but then with Sam everything was a lot. Deciding that he didn’t want to ruin his cashmere---one gone due to Mexican food was an object lesson---Michael had opted for jeans and a t-shirt. Today’s was a _Pink Floyd_ ’s The Wall album. He could bear to get a stray bit of tomato or even spit up on it.

Granted, it didn’t cost three grand, but Samael made the choices to wear some people’s rent on his body daily, after all.

Linda rolled her eyes at Sam. “You’re probably lucky that Chloe’s only child is already in middle school and quite sweet. She babysits Charlie sometimes. Honestly, outside of a very eager Azrael…you know, when the deaths calm down…she’s the only person I trust with Charlie when I’m out doing something small. I mean, Maze is go-to for sitting when it’s overnight, but for a couple hours at the store, Trixie’s pretty good too. She’s responsible and kind.”

“She also is no longer sticky, and the urchin does not drool.”

“Yes, well, Charlie’s an infant. He’ll get better at it,” Michael said.

“He’s also teething. His first molar is slowly coming in and he’s crying a lot,” Linda said.

Samael sighed. “That can be unpleasant I suppose.”

Michael reached out and stuck his middle finger in the boy’s mouth. The Nephilim grabbed it immediately and started gumming it. Occasionally, Michael felt the tiny edge of whatever passed for an emerging molar scrape him, but he was invulnerable, and it was no more than a tickle.

Linda looked between them both, and he was amazed with how her bearing changed at a family gathering. She was so good at schooling her expressions when in therapy, but here he could tell she was more effusive. Linda’s facial expression more obvious as she glanced between him and his twin, probably cataloguing every difference.

Fair enough.

“You’re really good with him,” Linda said, as if that was a greater marvel than the fact she was sitting with The Adversary and the (former) Sword of God.

Just how terrible was Samael with children anyway?

“You let Trixie sit him in short bursts?” Michael continued, not necessarily liking the scrutiny.

“She knows about him. He doesn’t have wings yet,” she gave him an apologetic smile. “But if they just pop out one day, I don’t want a human to get confused or try and report him to Area 51---is that a thing?---or possibly, even if he’s small, become enamored with him and go into a religious stupor.”

Samael shrugged. “I have no idea what humans find and hide in their military bases, nor do I care.”

Michael shrugged. “I had a coworker once in D.C. at this little rabbit warren at the IRS, and he was the type to love conspiracy theories. I just wasn’t quite rude enough to get him to not talk to me over coffee in the break room. He thinks that the royal family are part lizard people. So, honestly, Linda, you tell me what you humans get up to.”

Linda shrugged. “Actually, the psychology of paranoia is pretty fascinating and---”

Sam narrowed his eyes at her. “It’s not paranoia if your Father literally is all powerful and out to ruin your life.”

Michael sighed. It wasn’t untrue, but his twin had certainly changed the mood in the room instantly with that declaration. Maybe he was in such a pissy mood because things were going as well for him as with Chloe Decker as they were for Michael with Ella. Still, Sam’s allusion to Father probably wasn’t something the doctor wanted to think about. After all, The Presence would know by now---would have known the moment Charlie was conceived---that the Nephilim was here. If Father cared enough to ever insert himself into his grandchild’s life remained to be seen.

Considering what a mess their youths had been, Michael sincerely hoped not.

Linda nodded between them both. “It’s a lot to know that God--- _the God_ , _capital G_ \---is basically your father-in-law. Maybe it’s naïve or human of me, but I prefer to focus on my problems day to day. It could also be because I don’t have preternatural gifts. If He shows up, He does. Right now, Amenadiel and I want to give Charlie as normal a life as we can.”

Michael continued to let his nephew chew on his finger (well, still mostly gum it), even as he assessed Linda. “The child won’t be normal. I can tell he’s got divinity in him. I don’t know if Charlie will have wings or his father’s powers, but he’s definitely got a big chunk of angel in him.”

She frowned. “I…Amenadiel said Remiel knew too.”

Sam sighed. “Well, perhaps the rapscallion will avoid having feathery menaces---they are nice---but they’d gather too much attention on the pitch at recess, wouldn’t they?”

Linda looked back at Michael. “How can you tell? Amenadiel and Lucifer can’t.”

Michael shrugged. “I judged souls in heaven, weighed their worth to ensure Azrael brought the right ones fully through the gates. I always know. You should be proud, Linda. Charlie’s soul is very special, very bright, and I think only part of that is because of the First Born.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know me much socially yet. Believe me, I’ve done bad things.”

Samael scoffed. “Doctor, I’ve told you, paying your way through med school as a phone sex operator is hardly a capital crime.”

Linda laughed but her eyes held a dark, haunted look to them. “I told you when we were figuring out who would be on back up to go to Hell if you needed it when we saved Chloe…I’d go to Hell, Lucifer.”

His twin shook his head. “Not now, I’d never allow it. Father’s a right arse, but I’ve some vetoes.”

Michael chuckled a little. “Honestly, if I ever make it back to the Silver City as judge or, well, the one tallying all the pros and cons in human souls, I’d weigh in your favor. You’re clearly good people for listening to Sammy talk for so long without cracking.”

His twin tossed a decorative pillow at him and Michael rolled his eyes as it hit his right shoulder. With his good hand in Charlie’s mouth, there had been no hope to deflect the blow. “Yes, how stunningly mature, Samael.”

“At least I didn’t try to come and _steal_ your life,” Sam snapped.

Linda glared between both of them and he felt as he had when he’d been younger, and Mother had scolded them for sword fighting too near the palace. “Boys, boys. I’m gathering that apologies were not accepted.”

“Is this a session, Doctor?” Sam asked.

“No, but in L.A. traffic, it’ll take time for Amenadiel to come home with food so help me not starve,” she said.

Michael took the invitation to talk. He really needed it. “Ella did not like my gift or, more accurately, she seemed to find it pretty, but she refused to take it.” Although he’d just left it there. He certainly had no use for it, nor a desire for it to remain at the penthouse and remind him that she still hated him.

Linda’s eyes grew wide with concern. “I thought I explained that apologies had to be sincere and not impersonal.”

Samael crossed one leg languorously over the other. “I’d say mine wasn’t. I procured a lovely diamond necklace for the Detective and she had quite a few words with me both at my place and in _Lux_ about where I could stick it.”

Linda pinched the bridge of her nose and took a few, deep breaths. “You can’t buy your ways out dilemmas, Lucifer and Michael.”

“But they were personal gifts!” Michael objected. “Ella likes coffee so the necklace like a caffeine molecule makes sense.”

“And I didn’t get Chloe a car this time,” Sam added.

“But you…” Linda started and stopped, and she seemed to think better of whatever she’d wanted to say at first. “Just because it wasn’t as big as a car, Lucifer, doesn’t mean it was a personal show of good faith.”

“Well, they say diamonds are a girl’s best friend, and I’ve found that honestly true across genders, Doctor.”

Michael sighed but removed his finger from Charlie’s mouth. His nephew picked back up his fake key ring and shoved a bright orange key in between his gums. “Even I’ve heard that.”

Linda nodded and then sipped her wine. Idly, Michael wondered if that made giving advice to the two of them easier than in a normal, spiritless session. “Yes, but you love Chloe, Lucifer, specifically because she’s not someone who can be bought off by trivial things and also because she isn’t affected by your abilities with desire.”

Michael’s eyes widened. He knew the detective was supposed to make Samael vulnerable, that the rumors about her had even attracted Cain, so desperate to die. But he had always assumed she was as affected by his twin as anyone else. It made sense she wasn’t. Sammy had a short attention span. Having someone he had to actually try with made an awful lot of sense. How clever Father had been with the miracle He’d made for Sam.

Michael ignored the bitter flame licking at his chest. He was trying to settle with his brothers, to have a family, but he couldn’t help but resent Samael a little. Father had crafted a miracle just for the (former) Lightbringer.

What had Father given him since the Rebellion but the cold shoulder.

“Why, yes, that’s quite true, but I want her to…I would like to fast forward through how much I’ve missed her and how many thousands of years it’s felt for me. I know I was rash to leave.”

“You hurt everyone, Lucifer,” Linda reminded. “Amenadiel and I are so grateful for what you did for Charlie, but I also think you underestimated how much you’ve touched everyone’s lives. How much your family and friends were miserable without you.”

Sam nodded. “I may have noticed with the detective’s ire lately and Maze’s blows.”

Linda gulped. “I asked her not to.”

“Just a sparring session to get feelings out,” he admitted. “No knives for her and nothing Devilish from me.” He shrugged. “Pity on that, now that I can control my more Devilish side thanks to eons in Hell, she would have gotten my claws.”

Michael blanched at that. “What?”

Linda looked between them both. “I do think eventually part of your joint sessions could explore self-actualization. It’s affected Amenadiel and Lucifer both so much.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Michael replied. “It sounds like some crazy, New Age thing to me.”

Samael sighed and started twisting his ring. “No, I wish that it were. However, there is a reason my wings can sometimes be no better than a ruddy gargoyle’s.”

“Oh,” Michael said.

Somehow, he hated himself all the more because that tiny, petty part of himself who’d come up with his dumbass plan to begin with was disappointed that Samael didn’t always have those abominations on his back. If his twin had access to the luminescent white wings that made him the Lightbringer, then they weren’t close to even now. Not that it mattered, truly. Michael wanted a life and a chance with his siblings on earth. If Sam only sometimes suffered still from the Rebellion as he did, it would have to suffice.

Seeming to sense his anxiety, Linda slipped from her chair to the sofa on the pretext of picking up Charlie and cradling him to her chest. “It’s complicated, and I’ll be honest as an almost sister-in-law and say for his sake, I hope Charlie doesn’t struggle with it too. It’s hard, and it’s something worth exploring eventually in regards to you and your injuries, too, Michael.”

He shook his head. “I am as I am because Father wills it.”

Samael smirked but still played with the onyx stone on his hand. “Yes, I’ve suffered under that delusion before too. Father is apparently far more insidious than that.”

“But, right now, as I advise, we focus on one thing at a time. You both want to build up your roots here in Los Angeles, and you feel you have to do that by making amends with Chloe and Ella. You can’t buy them things. You have to show them with _actions_ that you’ve changed and, in your case, Lucifer, that you won’t just run off unilaterally again.”

He nodded. “So not even a topaz bit of jewlery? That’s her birthstone you know.”

Michael quirked his head and studied Linda intently. He didn’t even know when Ella’s birthday was but perhaps his twin had the correct suggestion. “Oh, yes, would that work?”

“No, you need emotional honesty, time, and patience. I know that’s apparently a challenge for _both_ of you. But proof of integrity and intention takes deeds, not flashy presents and vows. Do you get that this time?”

Samael leaned back in his chair and pulled out his silver cigarette case before Linda sent him a death glare. It had been worth the whole dinner to watch the Poison of God panic at her veiled threat and shove the silver case into his suit pocket with inhuman speed.

Yes, at first Michael had underestimated Linda. And, surely, she was a witch.

A very powerful one.

Michael nodded. “I have to show Ella I can be her friend and that she’s special to me.”

“Yes, exactly!” Linda enthused. “Lucifer, you have to show Chloe that you trust her judgment too---her _Free Will_ \---and that you’ll face problems together. You can’t just decide to run off and sacrifice yourself whenever you choose and leave her behind.”

“I wouldn’t dare leave her again. Michael almost has everything set up so Duma can guard Hell for me whilst---”

He trailed off, and Michael understood that much. For Samael, falling in love with a Miracle---the only one Michael had ever heard of in point of fact---was an exquisite form of torture. They might have four or five paltry decades together, a blink in time for ageless beings like them, before her death. Samael was never allowed in the Silver City, and a Miracle would be gifted a fast pass.

He hoped Linda Martin was wrong about her own soul---not that he and Sammy wouldn’t do their best to get her into heaven as she deserved---but if they couldn’t…if she were damned, that would cut into Amenadiel’s soul too.

Risk of differing lifespans and species, he supposed.

It was all very complicated and one of the many reasons he’d passed among humans but never dared get involved.

Linda nodded. “Yes, well, Chloe needs to feel you won’t run again. After Vegas and to Hell…she just needs to trust you won’t hurt her like that again. So, it’s about showing up for both of you.”

Michael nodded. “That makes more sense. So, you’re sure there’s no shortcut?”

Samael sighed and shook his head. “Bloody human feelings. I find there never is. I have so many brilliant ideas, and they just never work. You lot…you should think more like us.”

Linda’s eyes grew wide. “I think it’s better if we don’t!”

She mellowed a little as Amenadiel came in through the door. The eldest eyed all of them before whistling a little and heading back to his lasagna prep. Michael was glad for that. Talking about feelings was hard. He had so much to mull over between self-actualization, whatever that was, his wing that ached already in the day, and his wish that he could prove to Ella they could be friends, that not everything had been a lie.

Samael surprised him by standing and easing his way to the kitchen. He figured in that suit, Sam would do nothing domestic. Of course, as soon as Sam got back by the stove, he and Amenadiel started bickering over the best way to spice the lasagna. So, it wasn’t domestic bliss Sam was after but to hear the sound of his own voice as he dictated the best course of action. Typical.

And unsurprising.

It was comical however to hear the Fist of God and the Adversary, who had many a blowout fight over returning Sam to Hell, now grill each other on the correct ratio of garlic and oregano. How low they had all Fallen, but at least most of the time Sammy and Amenadiel seemed content. Michael wanted that too. Desperately.

But no short cuts. Not this time.

Linda watched him with keen eyes as he tickled at Charlie. She held him close to her chest and rocked him a little. It amused Michael that Linda was so tiny that the baby seemed to already swamp her torso. Amenadiel was not small, not really any smaller than he or Samael. If Charlie took after the First Born, then he’d be bigger than Linda before he hit middle school.

“Would you like to hold him?” She asked.

He grimaced at the question and then tried to school his features back to neutral at her frown. It was confusing to see emotions on her face, to watch her be more expressive with him and Sam both because she was family currently and not technically their therapist today. Again, he could see why in general humans found this unethical. It must be confusing for her.

It was for him.

“No, Linda, I apologize. It’s not about Charlie or you, nothing about him being Nephilim. I honestly don’t care about that. If Remi had issues with it, then it was her loss, and she was always so judgmental.”

Linda quirked her head at that as in the background his two brothers seemed to be bickering about whether or not to add fresh cut tomatoes to the store-bought sauce Amenadiel had to layer in the lasagna. That was familiar. Sammy had always been a handful for the Host. Before the Rebellion, before Sam had started talking blasphemy, he had mostly just been close with him and Azrael. Sometimes, he’d played pranks on Uriel. But he’d always been one to be brash and loud and a bit too much for the rest of them. Michael had been the quieter of the Demiurge, a role he’d embraced naturally but also in part because Samael sucked up all the air in the room. But yes, Samael and Amenadiel had spent most of Creation annoying each other.

Somehow, it was oddly comforting to see that some things never changed.

She continued to consider his words and probably her own before he spoke. “I get the impression a lot of your siblings can be. Uriel and Remiel seem obsessed with doing what they think your Father would want. Amenadiel did terrible things at first because of that same logic. Perhaps when you’re judged by hard standards, then you exact those on others as well?”

Michael sighed and his right shoulder ached. He twitched around a little, desperate to readjust his position on the sofa so it twinged less. Nothing really worked. He’d have to go back to the penthouse and let his terrible, pathetic wings out to give his muscles a bit of rest.

“It’s hard, Linda, yes. I do believe we all learned from Father how to judge.” He shook his head. “It was literally my job for human souls up above, a double bit of insurance to ensure that Azrael hadn’t made a mistake bringing humans bound for Hell to the Silver City instead. I…Remiel always took that further. She is the best huntress in heaven, and she is made to track down rogue demons. I cannot help but feel she turns her keen senses on those of us she felt were defective or who didn’t honor Father enough.”

“She was cruel to you, wasn’t she?”

Michael sighed. “It was as it was. I was once the Sword of God back when she and Azrael…when most of the young Host were still naïve and barely trained to be in the legions. Now, I am not. Remiel sees what is lacking. I…with Charlie, she’s wrong. She thinks his humanity taints him, I’m sure. She knows very little about humanity, and even I am barely beginning to understand all of it. I must admit that you and Ella have helped with that. Even seeing how much Sammy’s detective cares on her cases. You all really are fascinating, and I love how you try.” Michael shook his head. “It’s hard not to get set in your ways when you’re immortal.”

Linda still studied him; her eyes focused to laser precision under her glasses. “I’m sorry Remiel was mean anyway. Siblings should be there for each other.” She eyed where Lucifer and Amenadiel were now fighting over spatulas. “Erm, maybe not when cooking. I just…you’re not…she shouldn’t have judged you so hard.”

He moved his good hand back from tickling Charlie’s chin. “She isn’t wrong. I’m _lacking_ , a fraction of what I was once upon a time. Nothing for her to look up to any longer. I…I would love to hold Charlie, and it has _nothing_ to do with his humanity.” Michael smiled at her. “I like you quite a bit, Linda.”

“Thank you.”

“But I fear,” he said, staring down at his stiff right arm. “that even with my strength, I might drop him if I held him with just my left arm. I don’t want to hurt him.”

Her face fell. “We’ll find a way to get you situated on a sofa from now on so that you have pillows and support and me with you, if you want to hold him. He really does like you.”

“You act surprised?”

“Well, Charlie’s good for Lucifer, but, uh, your brother’s not exactly paternal or even avuncular.”

Michael rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the heated bickering between his siblings. Now they couldn’t decide what temperature to put the lasagna in to bake. Although Michael was in Amenadiel’s corner on that one so far; after all, he was certain 500 was too hot.

Living in Hell again had perhaps warped Samael’s sense of heat for now.

“I like children. Well I’ve mostly just existed here on earth because it’s easier to stay to the edges, to not let people see or give them a chance to stare. But those I’ve been near seemed pleasant enough. Fascinating even.”

Linda smiled kindly at him and then glanced long enough to Samael to blush. Oh, Michael wondered if there were a story there, knowing his twin’s manwhore tendencies, he feared there was. Perhaps one even Amenadiel did not know.

“You know, despite your arm and posture…you’re quite handsome. I mean, don’t tell Lucifer because he’ll just brag more, but you know he’s objectively attractive.”

“Of course and a fact he’s leveled to his advantage, but he’s _not_ the defective one, or at least he can pass for better. Humans stare at me the same way the Host did, and I know that. But yes, I did stay here for years without really engaging with humanity. Perhaps that was a mistake.” He shrugged her tried to. “I had a spate in the mid-nineties teaching middle school math for a few years. I enjoyed it. Even if middle schoolers can be a lot. Kids are fine. Good even.”

Linda nodded. “Well, I trust a very strong archangel with my child, so we’ll just make sure you have a lot of support next time.”

He frowned down at her, trying to see if she were lying---a white lie, one for the benefit of his ego---but she didn’t seem to be. Michael bowed his head a bit toward her. “Thank you, Linda. I’d like that a lot.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Michael hated letting his wings out.

The twisted disasters were anathema to all he had been as the Defender of the Church, Sword of God, and Voice of the Presence, and still technically was as the Creation side of the Demiurge. But they ached and by the time he slumped into the penthouse and slid (more like collapsed) onto Samael’s sofa, he could no longer keep them in. It took the better part of two minutes to get them out from under his skin, especially the left one with its bones grating on bones and the hunks of feathers missing, but it eventually came too. With their escape, the horrible cramps in his right shoulder stopped.

Sam was grabbing Scotch at his bar, and when Michael looked up to see his twin, the grimace on his face was there for a bit too long before Sammy could hide it again. Oh, don’t get Michael wrong. Samael could always conjure up a shit-eating grin rather easily or an oily smirk. But that bravado came a beat too late, and Michael let out a long, slow breath as he rubbed at his temples.

“I apologize. I have to let them out sometimes or the pain is too great. I know they’re awful.”

Samael chuckled. “They are still feathered so you have one up on me sometimes.”

Curious, Michael looked up and his twin came and sat on the far side of the couch with a double shot of yet more Scotch clutched in his hands. “Sometimes, Sammy?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You can call me ‘Lucifer’ or even ‘Luci’ as Amenadiel does. I’m not a huge fan of my former appellation. I’m hardly a poison.”

Michael snorted and his pesky left wing twitched, what was left of his scraggly primaries flicking forward. “Perhaps.”

“I’m not!”

“You and I have been---for good or bad---tied to each other since almost the dawn of Creation. We’re the only twins among the Host and the only Demiurge. You were Samael to me when we made the stars together and the planets, and you’re Sam now. It is what it is.”

“Fine, Mikey, I’ll keep that in mind.”

He glared at his twin. “I hate that.”

“Tough, _Mikey_ , if you call me ‘Sam,’ then get used to that.” His brother reached for the remote and flicked through things until he pulled up one of a ton of streaming services he had access too. Waste of money if you asked Michael. Then again, he was sure he’d loathe a look at his twin’s ledgers. Samael never found something he didn’t want to buy. “Now, what I can tell you is that sometimes my wings are even worse than yours. Right now, since I feel like dirt over leaving the lovely Detective behind---even if I felt like it was the right thing to do at the time---and since I also had to be forceful and cruel with the demons in Hell so they never even _thought_ of rebelling again---the irony, I know---they don’t look their best.”

Michael frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“My wings reflect my mood. If I deeply hate myself, those bat-like terrors come out. If I feel good about myself, they are as they were in the Silver City, all white and fluffy. Since it’s subconscious, I’m still working on controlling us.”

“That’s not possible.”

“I agree with Linda for once and one thing at a time, but I will say that when we talked about self-actualization, the good doctor and I were being literal. Amenadiel felt bad---and he should have---and he made himself Fall for a while, rotted off his own wings and stopped being able to slow time. I left a human badly injured---”

“You’re good at maiming, aren’t you, Sam?” Michael bit back pointedly.

His brother said nothing but drained his double in two gulps. Eventually, he did speak. “I am, apparently. Happened last year. I was horrified and found it repugnant, what I’d done and couldn’t take back. First time my wings were actually like humans always said. I am unsure, perhaps yours are ruined still because we are unique, and in that yin and yang way, we’re equally strong, and I did ruin you.”

“Oh, you did, Brother.”

“But it’s also possible your subconscious is wrecking your body the way Amenadiel did to him or mine will play with mine. Believe me, the bit of batwing and the red face are the _least_ of how awful I can look. I honestly hope you never see it. I can promise you, it makes a limp arm and a bad wing like a plucked chicken seem pleasant.”

Michael balled his good hand up at his side. “I hate you.”

Sam laughed ruefully and then twisted his onyx ring. “That honestly makes two of us, Mikey. Linda has her work cut out for herself just in our 1:1 sessions, alone.”

Michael shook his head. “I still can’t believe that what happened to you after the Rebellion is worse than what happened to me.”

Samael sighed. “I burned for eons in a lake of fire, and it took what felt like almost as long for bone and muscle and skin to knit back together. I was not exactly in Tahiti while you were home, Brother.”

“You had none of the Host to stare at and hate you because all you did was follow Father’s orders to the letter.”

“Yes, that must have been so rewarding. I…perhaps it’s best we save this for when we’re in session or we really will fight, and I like my apartment not busted to nothing.”

Michael had to laugh at that. Samael and his fussiness. Some things never changed. “I’m too tired and racked with cramps to do anything against you, not now.”

“Splendid,” he said cueing up a movie for them. “Pardon, but I will be skipping the best part of this film. You’ll have to start it a couple scenes in at that delightful party where Chloe…well her character ‘Tiffany’ vomits chocolate cake in a suitor’s hair.”

Michael blinked. “Wait is this _American Pie_?”

“First, how have you heard of that?”

“Coworker who got fired for doing something unspeakable with the remains of an office party birthday cake. Also, the reason I always brought my own lunch after 1999.”

Samael laughed again, a belly laugh so big he leaned over at Michael own words as if they’d been intended as a joke. Michael was hardly amused. “Oh, you really have lived quite the pedantic life on earth, haven’t you, Mikey?”

“It was quiet. I liked the quiet. We don’t all headline clubs.”

“Touche. But second, this is a far better bit of cinema,” he said starting play at some random party onscreen. “It’s _Hot Tub High School_. The most famous film the detective ever made.”

Michael blinked. That actually explained a lot about what some of the officers sometimes ragged the dullard about in the break room, even now. “And we fast-forwarded through the first scenes because?”

“As splendid as the Detective looked there, I prefer _you_ don’t see it. It might inspire a repeat of the _Parent Trap_.”

Michael had seen that film. He preferred noir and classics of the 50s and 60s. So, yes, that allusion did not escape him. “I swore my oath as an angel I wouldn’t try and steal your life again, Samael. I meant it; you know that I did.”

Sammy offered him a small sigh and a slight, genuine smile. “I know, Michael. I just prefer that for the Detective’s own modesty---despite its popularity on streaming now---that you didn’t see that. She’ll murder me for it.”

“That seems fair,” he said, still not sure why Sam was so vulnerable around his Miracle. Seemed like a cruel trick of Father’s. When wasn’t there one?

“However, I think we could use a chance to rest our brains. This is crass, but hilarious and it is a great way to mellow out. I’ve some capital kush as well, if you want some?”

Michael rolled his eyes. The amount he’d have to smoke to even feel it would be truly mind boggling. Of course, Sam would have double that for them both. He just didn’t see the point in that much effort for a buzz that didn’t last nearly long enough. “I’m fine, Sammy.”

Sam leaned forward to a decorative box on his table and pulled out a modest sized bong and some of the weed in question. And to think Michael had assumed antiques or something else of worth had been housed there. He should have known better.

Michael sighed and watched the antics unfold on the screen. If he parked his brain enough, which the dull ache in his wings and his right side helped him to do, the film was amusing, and it was funny to see someone as buttoned-down and severe as Chloe Decker vomiting on people and stealing pot from a next door neighbor’s secret stash (in the film of course). He found himself enjoying it so much that the end came too soon.

Turning to ask his twin for a chance to rewind it, Michael stilled when he spied Sam, snoring softly at his side. Perhaps his herbal refreshment had been rather strong or, more likely, his twin had snuck in far more puffs than Michael had realized in the last ninety minutes.

That was alright. He’d just let the algorithm tell him what to watch next.

So that was how Michael was treated to a host of romantic comedies, John Hughes films, and other teen classics he’d skipped seeing so far in his time on earth. And it was also how Michael came up with a plan.

If Linda said _action_ was needed for Ella, then Michael had found all the inspiration he needed in the hours of movies he was watching in rapt attention. After all, these kids seemed to have good ideas. He just needed to tailor them to his own needs.

Yes, he could do that. He could sweep Ella right off her feet as easily as Lloyd Dobler.

After all, movies tended to have good advice, didn’t they?


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

It was kind of unfair that she couldn’t completely get away from thinking about Michael even at work. Not that she thought about him that much. She didn’t. Not really. Just sometimes over dinner or like tossing and turning before she went to sleep and, okay, a few times with like brushing her teeth in the morning before work. But, seriously, Ella didn’t think about him that much. And she hadn’t really hesitated about returning the caffeine molecule necklace to Lucifer to give back to his brother.

Nope, not at all. She just kept forgetting to bring it to the precinct from where it stayed locked in her desk junk drawer. That was totally all.

But it was hard enough not to think about him, when she had to deal with the _other one_ , and it was weird how fast she was used to thinking of Lucifer and Michael as a package deal, even though she’d only seen them side by side the one time. However, it was very difficult on a case to explain to Lucifer about the COD and blood splatter and probable weapon (and being real, keep him from _touching anything_ ) when she’d looked at him and with the right light almost think it was Michael.

Although, his twin wore a grumpier expression most of the time and didn’t make inappropriate and, okay definitely funny, double entendres like all the time. Michael had tried at first to do it when he’d been doing the impersonation thing (still messed up), but even that hadn’t last long. Apparently, the twins were, despite their overall appearance if you didn’t focus on Michael’s weak side, about like night and day. Lucifer was the very loud, very flashy one and Michael just wasn’t.

So yeah, it was hard even though she knew both after a weird fashion to have to explain things to Lucifer and be on cases with him without also thinking of Michael and how he was doing. She’d been strong in the last couple weeks too. She hadn’t even called Michael the once, even if she’d really wanted to. And…yeah. She was a strong, independent woman and she just needed to set out boundaries. If Chloe was keeping even Lucifer after his big, mysterious disappearing act for family business on a professional leash (that sounded bad), then Ella had to let _both_ guys know that she wasn’t a pushover. There would be no incommunicado for months with her _or_ weird _Parent Trap_ shenanigans.

Her already tenuous sanity couldn’t take that.

That said, she wasn’t exactly thrilled when Lucifer---in that outfit and that dazzling a smile it was Lucifer---waltzed his way into her lab while she was going over a tricky fingerprint analysis on a substrate that wasn’t really cooperating with her. It was even more annoying that he had _something_ hidden behind his back.

Never a good sign.

“Okay, Lucifer, I can tell you’re about to try bribing me with a something. All I want is the truth about where you were for your Dad’s business that didn’t have, you know, the internet.”

Lucifer deflated a little at that but still strode up to the desk with about 90% of his usual self-assurance. She’d known him long enough to know the difference in him when he was just a little deflated. Most of the unis wouldn’t have. Or Dan, who was still being prickly about all of it. Maybe Ella was too, but it had really hurt, and then Michael’s stunt had squeezed her heart even harder.

The twins had made a giant _lío_ out of everything, and it was proving near impossible to move past that with her usual smile and optimism. It just ached.

Lucifer sighed and set the brightly wrapped package on the lab table. “Caught so good on you, Miss Lopez.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “What did you get me? I really…between you and Michael, it’s like Christmas keeps coming.”

Lucifer shrugged. “Yes, well, I still feel I owe you for my absence and---”

She rolled her eyes and tore into the package before her. Then she gulped between the literally gleaming gold classic Nintendo cartridge in her hands. Technically the gold job was paint but it shone either way, and considering it was a ridiculously rare 1990 tournament special edition cart, well, Ella could do the math on that. Last one she’d even _heard_ about had sold in hours on Ebay for close to thirty thousand dollars.

“Lucifer! You shouldn’t have done this. That’s…it’s _a lot_.”

He quirked his head at her and straightened his lapels. “To be rather fair, I got in in a favor. It cost me nothing, so I didn’t spend a dime. Alas, _Lux_ , will be hosting gamer tournaments monthly for the next year so I did not escape unscathed.”

She slapped his arm which sometimes she swore felt like hitting a rock. “ _Tonto_ , I don’t need bribes! You’re even worse than Michael,” she said, handing the cartridge back to him. It pained her to do it because she’d only ever _read_ about them. It was vintage gamer gold, but she didn’t want a treat from Lucifer. She wanted the truth, which her friend seemed determined to avoid or talk around. “I just need to know where you were.”

Lucifer took the game cartridge back and shoved it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket even as he gave a dejected sigh. “Miss Lopez, I would like to fix the broken edges in our relationship, truly I would, and I’m at a loss as to how to go back to before.”

“You left and didn’t even say goodbye. I don’t know if you can fix that because I don’t trust you not to leave again and just forget I exist,” she answered, proud her voice didn’t even break as she spoke. Granted she was talking rapid fire fast even for her, but she was holding up. “I’d feel better if I knew where you’d been.”

Lucifer stared at her with those dark, dark eyes of his, ones that had freaked her out at first because the guy never seemed to even blink, and smiled sadly. “I have told you more than once, Miss Lopez. I was in Hell.”

“Yeah, I…that doesn’t make sense. I’m totally back on team Big Guy, but Hell is a one-time trip, and you think you’re bad, but you’re not. I mean, you’d never actually go there. People who solve murders for fun and do a million nice favors for their friends and, well, half of Los Angeles aren’t going there. Besides, you really can’t go like a revolving door, so pull the other leg!”

Lucifer shook his head. “You know, if you accepted I wasn’t a method actor but the actual Devil, this would go easier on all of us.”

She rolled her eyes again and turned back to her fingerprinting if only because it gave her something to do, a way to keep her hands busy. “I think I did for a minute, but that was just your idiot brother playing me like a violin, you know? I just…my head’s spun around so much. You went somewhere for your Dad so I’m thinking his cult is somewhere far away with terrible reception. Andes maybe? I have no clue, but then you just won’t say, and it hurts.”

Lucifer nodded. “I have told you the absolute truth, Miss Lopez, but I know you’re hurt. The Detective and Beatrice are both as cross with me for not giving them more warning or, in the spawn’s case, any warning at all before my abrupt departure. Mazikeen was furious, but she and I had a good row that since fisticuffs are a demon’s main language meant we settled things rather quickly.”

“I’m not gonna hit you, dude. You’d never even feel it, and it’s not my style.”

Lucifer considered that. “No, but you’ve my word, Miss Lopez…Ella, that if I ever have to leave here suddenly, I will still come to see you, and I will apologize profusely for having to leave. My brother, Duma, is now dealing with my affairs for the interim, but if that should change…I…well I will never leave you again without word.” He sighed again and set his hand on her shoulder. “I don’t take you for granted, and I never did. Believe me, where I was---”

“Hell, right?”

“Lake of Fire and land of ash, completely.”

She sighed and for once, wished her friend was either less method or possibly less delusional. She just wanted a straight answer. Was that too much to ask for? “Sure, okay.”

He squeezed her shoulder once more before releasing it. “I thought about you and Beatrice every day. I thought about my family. I…there was not a single second I didn’t wish to be with Chloe. No, Miss Lopez, you are quite impossible to forget about. You should be proud of that. I’ve known a lot of humans in my time, but you’re unique.”

“Thanks, dude, but I know you take your word seriously so I guess we’re okay since you say your brother has it covered---yet another one and I thought I had a big family!”

“You’ve no idea.”

“And anyhoo, I know you don’t break promises,” she said, cursing again under her breath when the print didn’t pull off right. _Again_. “So, I’m okay that if you do have to leave, you’ll actually say goodbye this time.”

He offered her a beaming smile and, okay, she had missed those in her presence. It was kind of like having a combination of an actual good big brother _and_ a golden retriever to hang out with. Seriously, dude was way too silly to be the actual Devil. Even if she thought Satan got a bad rap, Ella didn’t think he’d be as big a knucklehead in his own way as she could be. The Devil didn’t just go to Vegas randomly, did he?

“I’m very glad to hear we’re on better footing, Miss Lopez. I did miss you very much.”

“Aww, bring it in, Luce,” she said, wrapping him up in a hug and noting that he didn’t still as he used to. Man, whatever bullshit he’d been doing for his dad had to have sucked because he was so not kidding about missing her. After a bit, she pulled apart and went back to round four with the dumb print. “So, uh,” she said, trying to play it totally cool. “How is your brother?”

Lucifer lit up like a Christmas tree, and she shouldn’t have even asked. “Well, is that a bit of longing I detect in your voice?”

“It’s just concern. I think you have to be in a pretty dark place to do what he did in the first place. It was douche move, and just because I…” she trailed off, unsure of how to ask the next bit out loud. Between the twins, she didn’t really want to take sides, and some part of her felt like she might---even as long as she’d known Lucifer---be tempted to stick up more for Michael.

Something about him really did remind her of all those poor, wounded pigeons her abuela had looked after years ago on a Detroit roof.

“Miss Lopez? Are you quite alright?”

“Did you really maim him?” she asked, her voice quavering a little.

That level of violence was so unlike the man she knew. Then again, he had shoved a knife blade deep through Pierce’s sternum and shattered the other man’s hand…somehow. Not that the asshole hadn’t deserved it cause of Charlotte. He had. Still, that had been weird. _Rayos_ , so had the giant ass bloodied feathers everywhere that were real, but too big to be from any bird she knew of, even a condor. Sometimes, Ella felt she knew very little about Lucifer or any of his siblings and that sucked big time.

Lucifer sighed again and started to play with his cufflinks. “I did. It was when we were much younger and, to be blunt, Father had pitted us against each other. We were in a fight quite literally to the death and, while I lost, I had no idea how badly I’d hurt him back. I…after Michael bested me, I was exiled. I didn’t know.”

“But you still did hurt him.”

“Yes, but I got as bad as I gave, I assure you,” he said, his posture rigid as he spoke.

She frowned. “You look fine.”

“Miss Lopez, I assure you, that looks can be quite deceiving and I know that better than most. I…the last being I would have wanted to fight to essentially the death was my twin. Believe me, we were very close once. Now we are better than we were, but I fear we will never be that level of close again. I can’t blame him. I did him no good, and for millennia, he did little for me either.”

She figured the “millennia” part was a metaphor. As was usual with him, she passed over the weird parts and focused more on the reality of what Lucifer was saying. It was easier that way, and an adaptation she’d learned for dealing with him long ago.

“Could you hurt someone like that again?”

“No, I wouldn’t, and I couldn’t.”

“Julian,” she said, her tone tired and her heart breaking. “It had to have been you after Joan and everything. Lucifer, it would explain why Tiernan sent men for you, why you and Chloe fought so much. She _knew_.”

He pulled so hard on a cufflink there that she thought for a moment he might tear his jacket. “I wouldn’t hurt anyone after everything with C…Pierce and such a serious mistake with Julian; I never would do things like that again. I honestly had no idea our fight had hurt Michael the way it had. I regret that whole heartedly. In my very long life, it’s one of my top three regrets, I assure you.”

“What are the other two?”

He smiled ruefully. “Running to Vegas after the Detective’s poisoning and, to be quite frank, I could have treated my mother better after Father kicked her out too. I like to think I’ve rectified that to an extent, but I…there has been much in my life I regret, and four would be leaving without at least telling my friends and family of my plans last May.”

She nodded and then frowned down at the back of his hand. “You have that psoriasis thing again, dude? I still have more cream in here.”

Lucifer glanced at his hand and, at least this time, didn’t feel as much shocked as he did frustrated. He shoved his hand in his pocket and shook his head. “I have some remedies for it back at the penthouse. I need to let the Detective know I’ll be taking the afternoon off.”

He turned to leave, but she set a had on his arm. “He’s okay, right? Michael? I don’t even know what he finds to do with himself. Did he get a new job?”

Lucifer eyed the hand secreted in his pocket like it was a ticking time bomb. Weird. “He’s not working. He has therapy twice a week, once with me and once with just Linda. He spends quite a bit of time either puttering around the penthouse or at Linda and Amenadiel’s voluntarily spending time with Charlie. Why he’d want to be near a drooling mess like that…”

Ella dropped her hand. She knew all about Lucifer’s feelings on kids in general and infants in particular. Made sense for a guy whose wardrobe cost way more than her rent every day. “But he’s okay?”

“He misses you,” Lucifer replied, hurrying to the door. “I apologize, Miss Lopez, but I can’t tarry, and I do need to explain everything to the Detective. I’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully.”

“Tell him I said hi okay?”

Lucifer stopped long enough to look at her over his shoulder. “Believe me, I will. He’d like to hear that very much.”

She leaned against her desk and looked at the various religious totems on the ledge near it, her eyes pausing longest over her St. Michael statue. He’d liked that one a lot. “I miss him, but I…it was mean, Lucifer. Do you get that?”

He nodded. “I do, but I’ll see you tomorrow. I apologize for the quick retreat.”

She watched him rush double time over to Chloe’s desk, and she honestly didn’t get it. Yeah, Lucifer was vain, but it was just a little psoriasis. Dude could be less than 100% perfect at work for the day. Most of the unis and half the senior staff would still drool over him.

 _But whatever, you do you, Luce_ , she thought to herself as she turned back to her work.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Michael slipped off the elevator and blinked at how dark the penthouse was. That didn’t bother him much, as Celestials and Infernal beings both had better vision than humans. He had no ill will toward humans; at best until meeting Lucifer’s friends, Michaelhad been mostly indifferent to their existence. Though, he did wonder why they were so fragile. After all, he and his siblings endured eons, could be killed by few things. Humans seemed likely to keel over if you stared at them funny. And forget them having heightened senses. The poor beings seemed to walk around blind and deaf most of the time. Hopefully, Charlie wouldn’t inherit such disabilities.

Nice as Linda was, it would be best if Charlie had Celestial senses.

Although whatever magic she had would be nice for Charlie to have as well. Clearly, it had to be substantial even if he didn’t know what it was yet. After all, both his brothers deferred to her without question, and that was no small feat.

He’d have to quiz Linda some day during his times visiting his nephew exactly what it was she could do. Clearly, just therapy couldn’t be all.

He shrugged off his sport coat and set it over one of the stools by the bar. Then he did his best to pour himself a soda and then called out for his brother. Since it was so dark, he doubted Samael was home, but it was worth asking.

“Sam? Are you here?”

He heard it then, the oddest noise of a sail unfurling or wind blowing against it more likely. Michael frowned and let himself concentrate. He hadn’t really needed to try such a thing since they’d been young, and Sammy tended to lose track of time---such as it was---crafting the planets. It had taken Samael _ages_ to do Saturn, and he was still inordinately proud of that one. However, as Demiurge, Michael could always sense where Sammy was. It had helped him be sure that Samael was secured in Hell before he tried his idiot plan. Closing his eyes, Michael extended his senses and felt his twin’s presence in the penthouse, somewhere ensconced in his bedroom.

But something felt off.

Michael assumed that was because he hadn’t done this in literal eons and because Samael was at least tainted by the Infernal now, colored by the realm he was king of. But it felt _more_ somehow. Frowning to himself, Michael gripped his drink tightly in his left hand and limped into his brother’s bedroom.

“Sammy?”

He was not prepared for the being before him. The abominations of wings he’d seen before, even the flash of red eyes, had hardly been enough prep as Michael dropped his drink to the floor when he spied his brother (?) before him. The bat-like wings were familiar, the giant spikes erupting from Samael’s back and the red warped skin that extended all the way to his bald scalp were _not_.

“Oh bully for you, you’re home,” his brother replied. And his voice was _wrong_ , echoed in the small confines of the room and felt more like a multitonal growl.

“What happened?” Michael asked, although he dared not to get closer to his twin. He wasn’t sure if getting closer would piss Samael off, and, honestly, he couldn’t take the brother he knew in a fight as he was. He certainly didn’t want to risk the ire of the demon before him. “I…what even is this?”

Samael turned from his window and regarded him with red, glittering eyes, set in a face ravaged by burns and scars. “Self-actualization. To be fair my body and face did look for this for a time after I finally pulled myself from the Lake of Fire. The spikes and bat wings are all an outpouring of my rather generous and cruel subconscious.”

“You…that thing you and Linda talked about. You really think you’re doing this to yourself!”

Samael nodded. “Oh, I _know_ that I am. However, it had its uses in Hell. Demons listen better to me like this, I assure you.”

Michael stilled as his mind filtered through what Sam wasn’t say because his twin had always been such an expert at skating truth. “You were like this in Hell.”

“Most of the time, especially in the beginning. It squelched rebellion efficiently. Toward the end, not nearly as often, no.”

Michael felt nauseated. To see his twin---dear Father, to honestly see what he would have looked like as far worse than a burn victim---was horrifying. “I had no idea.”

Samael smiled, and it was far from pleasant and highlighted a rictus grin of yellowed, rotten teeth. “Yes, well, Brother, I do not think the grass is greener on the other side for either of us. This doesn’t hurt, just looks like it should. It’s mostly a manifestation of who I feel I am at the moment.”

“Did work go that badly?” Michael asked, still gazing over his brother’s form. How…what even was this? It was an Abomination to anything divine, that much was certain. Not for the first time, he wondered if there was anything Demiurgic left in his twin. Michael wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He wasn’t even sure which answer he was rooting for.

“I had a long talk with Miss Lopez. I am finally in her good graces, more or less,” his brother said, brushing past him and heading to the bar.

He followed after Sam and turned on the lights. It was a mistake perhaps, to see the wounds in full color as they both seemed to weep and reveal malformed areas where scar tissue withered painfully down to the bone.

Michael couldn’t help but gasp at the sight before him.

Sam arched an eyebrow ridge---he had no hair left---back at him. “Yes, quite horrid, am I right? You should have left the lights off and a bloke in peace, Mikey, but perhaps the last bit of plaster, Band-Aid, whichever is off now. This is why Linda thinks you’ve maimed yourself or, at least, prolonged your injuries.”

“I would _not_ do that. Ever.”

“Like I said if Amenadiel can make himself fall and I can make myself this, then you can keep yourself from healing for thousands of years, but that’s a process for your two to deal with,” he said, gesturing to himself with a hand dotted by actual fucking claws. “This probably will last the rest of the night before I calm down and feel more my handsome self. I just…I didn’t expect the grilling our lovely forensic scientist gave me today.”

Michael tried to stop gaping at his twin, but it was hard, especially since it was _his_ face too so horribly marred and ruined. As disturbing as this experience was _in situ_ , Michael knew he’d be having nightmares tonight after the fact too.

“About where you’d been?”

“Yes, but mostly about you. Stubborn little thing misses you, but she also is rather pissed off at both of us still. Oddly, more me than you.”

Michael blinked, that much he’d not been expecting. “I’m the one who lied to her. I don’t get why she’s mad at you.”

Samael smirked, and it was not a good look with a mouthful of yellowed teeth. It was…unsettling. “Because Miss Lopez is rather sweet on you, and she’s furious that I’m the reason you’re maimed.”

“I can’t say I’m thrilled about it either,” Michael replied, sliding into the sofa and wishing he still had something to drink even if it had been just caffeine. Then again, he was also giving Samael a wide berth. He wasn’t scared of his twin. Nope. But he could admit he was unnerved. “But she stood up for me?”

Sam nodded and finished pouring himself a double. As he was putting the decanter back it almost slipped in his claws, but his brother managed. “She did. I admit I felt rather horrid about the whole thing,” Sammy punctuated his statement by taking a sip. “I didn’t know, Mi, believe me I didn’t.”

Despite everything, Michael felt a calm fall over him at the mention of his old nickname. Long ago, back when they’d made stars together, he was just “Mi” and Samael was “Sammy.” It had been so long since things were that simple. “It was quite a fight. I have had a long time to think about it, and these last few weeks have given me more time to mull it over than the eons before. I did what Father asked. It was the right thing, you know. I just didn’t realize the cost,” he said, gesturing vaguely to Sam’s face.

His brother stiffened. “Yes, well, we all have varying levels of regret over the ‘Freaking Rebellion’ as Azrael calls it. Miss Lopez does miss you, Brother. If you find a way to apologize well as Linda has advised, she definitely wants you back.”

“You can’t know that.”

Sam laughed, and it was tinged with bitterness and a harsh, braying sound underneath in this form of his. “I’m an expert on ‘Desire’ as you are about ‘Command,’ and perhaps I shouldn’t hold following orders so harshly against you as that was what you were made for. The loyal twin, the good one.”

“It netted me nothing in the end,” Michael admitted, closing his eyes and trying not to think of the Host’s stares and Remi and Uriel’s barbs. The Sword of God and then the least of all the angels. How it ached even now that he had no real home to go to, and for now, was merely borrowing his siblings’ friends for his own.

“But you have a lovely, vivacious woman who would give you a second chance if you make the right impression upon her.” His twin’s eyes flashed bright with living flame. “Of course, you have to give me your vow that you will never harm her, that you will endeavor to cherish her if she takes you back.”

Michael opened his eyes. “I’d rather have you break my semi good wing too to make a matching set than I’d ever hurt Ella again. I care about her a lot.” He blinked and considered it. “It’s odd how fast that can happen. It was a few weeks of being mostly honest with her until you were back, but it felt so right.”

Sam smirked, those yellow teeth so like a neon sign blinking back at him. “Yes, well, that’s how it happens. The Detective intrigued me immediately, and soon after I was…well she had a way with my vulnerability.”

“Ella isn’t a miracle. She wasn’t made for me. Father gives so little thought to me that He never would have.”

“All’s the better. One hundred percent Free Will all around then,” Samael added. “Have you been planning how to win her back in a way that fits all of Linda’s rules, then?”

Michael arched an eyebrow at his brother. “Actually, I have. I got a lot of inspiration from some of those romantic comedies on Netflix and---”

Samael clapped his hands together and Michael tried not to think about the weird clacking noise his claws made when they struck each other. This was apparently a passing phase, per Sam. “Splendid. If I or _Lux’s_ resources can help you in anyway, then let a chap know. I…we both hurt Miss Lopez quite a bit. She deserves to be happy.”

Michael nodded. “That, Sammy, is the second thing we’ve agreed upon since the Fall.

“See, then that’s two then. Bully for us!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Ella found Tribe Nights were weird these days. Maze helped hide the fact that Michael had been basically cosplaying his twin, which meant she and Chloe weren’t speaking. Eve was still off finding herself so wasn’t in town, and half the time Linda had to cancel, like tonight because of Charlie-related things. So, that meant that Tribe Night for now was her, Chloe, and Trixie playing _Twister_ and settling down soon for some pizza and Disney movies. Trixie was lobbying hard for a PG-13 horror movie, which rookie mistake because those were never good. But Chloe was adamant that since the kid was still just eleven, they’d be doing a double feature of _Lilo and Stitch_ and then _Big Hero 6_.

Fine by Ella. She loved her some House of Mouse anyway.

However, she was helping Chloe toss the salad to go with the frozen pizza heating up in the oven, when she felt bold enough to bring up the L-word or, you know, speak of the Devil, whichever.

“So,” she said, chopping up the tomatoes. “Lucifer still having a bad psoriasis flare-up? I know he felt bad on Thursday, but I thought he’d be back before the weekend.”

Chloe blanched while rinsing off the lettuce and eyed Trixie who was doodling a Miss Alien drawing on the sofa. Ella kind of hated that. It was as if _even Trixie_ knew more about Lucifer and Michael and the reasons behind all their collective weirdness than she did.

“Well, Ella, he had a pretty strong reaction the last couple days, but I saw him this morning and he’s a lot more himself. He says he’ll be back on the case on Monday.”

“Good,” she said, adding the tomatoes to the mixing bowl and starting in on the cucumbers. “I felt it was my fault. I figured it was more he needed a like emotional sick day cause I asked too much about him and Michael, since Michael mentioned to me his limp and hurt shoulder were all because of Lucifer, which seems weird cause Lucifer’s kind of like a pussycat, but like still, apparently true cause even Lucifer admitted it.”

Chloe’s eyes widened as she turned off the faucet. “Well that explains it.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, I think he’s using the, uh, psoriasis as a pretext.” Over on the couch Trixie gave a typical pre-teen snort of derision, and Ella filed that tidbit away for later as she did with most things she puzzled through. “He and Michael have this complicated relationship I can’t really understand because all of Lucifer’s family is messed up.”

“You can say that again.”

“But,” Chloe said, shredding up the lettuce. “I can’t say I like Michael all that much. It was a dumb stunt to do the impersonation stuff. I can forgive him because he’s trying, and Lucifer and Linda are both vouching for how hard Michael is working in therapy. Also, he convinced their other brother Duma to do any family business for Lucifer, so he doesn’t have to travel again. I am grateful for that much.”

“Sensing another but here.”

“All that aside, they had a big fight a long time ago. Michael ejected him from his home, and I get that Lucifer hurt him pretty bad on the way out. That’s awful, but if Lucifer had won, maybe he’d have at least been allowed to stay.”

“Yeah, but with a family that crappy outside of him and Amenadiel and maybe Michael…would Lucifer really have wanted to?”

Chloe tossed the lettuce into the bowl and got her tongs; she waited until Ella had dumped the cucumber slices in before mixing it. “I think all of them still want to please their dad. To me, their dad seems like the biggest asshole out there, and Lucifer says he doesn’t care, but I can tell he does. I think for both, um twins and it’s weird to say---”

“So weird,” Ella agreed. “Still blows my mind.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me. Anyway, I think that neither of them feel welcome at home to say the least. I think it’s hard, but they’re both not welcome in different ways.”

“It really sucks that his family kicked Lucifer out at all. Messed him up.”

Trixie snorted again in the background and Chloe glared back at her. “Monkey, get washed up for pizza, okay?”

“Do I have to? I’m not sticky or a little kid. I’m pretty clean.”

Oh yeah, hitting that tween stage hard. Ella laughed. “You think you are, but you should see all the bacteria that live on your skin all the time. Trust a scientist, you want to wash up, Trix.”

“Ooh! Can you bring me slides next time?” the girl asked.

“Sure can!” Ella chimed back. As Trixie walked upstairs to the bathroom, Ella regarded Chloe again. “And I feel bad for Michael too. I think his family judges him a lot.”

Chloe shook her head. “If he pulls stunts like that up there…um, with them, then I wouldn’t doubt it.”

Ella sighed as Chloe slid her oven mitts on and prepared to yank out the pizzas. “Yeah, but it’s different when your family sees you as sick all the time or a burden. It’s hard.”

Chloe frowned. “You’re probably giving Michael way too much benefit of the doubt, you know? He knew what he was doing and that trying to take over Lucifer’s life was wrong. I’m willing to wait on a final judgment, be patient with him because Lucifer vouched for him, but however his family treated him, it doesn’t reflect how your family reacted to you seeing ghosts.”

“A ghost, just one!” Ella said a bit too fast. Chloe had never brought it up with her since she’d mentioned it a couple years ago. However, it made her nervous, like one day Chloe might just flip a switch and decide she was too _loca_ to hang around. “I think that’s better, right?”

Chloe’s smile grew warmer, even as she yanked the pepperoni pizza out first. “Well if your family can’t deal with you having a special skill, then they’re not a good family.”

“Well, clearly Lucifer and Michael and Amenadiel’s family isn’t a very good one either.”

Chloe shrugged and grabbed the veggie next. “Maybe, but Michael still made so many bad choices. It’s hard to get past that.”

“Yeah but like some total sap I still miss him, and I’m not sure but---”

A loud ding sounded out and Ella nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized it was the doorbell. She gave Chloe an exasperated look. “You keep getting the food ready and tell Trixie to cue up _Lilo and Stitch_. I’ll get the door and make sure whoever it is scrams.”

Chloe nodded. “Just tell ‘em whatever it is, we’re not interested.”

Ella nodded and opened the door even as Chloe busied herself by taking the salad bowl over to the den. Then, she stilled. The last thing she expected was to see Michael Demiurgos in his usual look of turtleneck and sport coat, in a charcoal grey this time but as designed to blend into his surroundings per usual, before her.

With cue cards.

Seriously, _demonios_ , what was he even trying to do?

Michael said nothing but held up the first cue card. _Say it’s Mormons_.

Ella giggled a little and called over her shoulder to Chloe it was missionaries and that she was going to ask them if they’d tried Catholicism and give her a few minutes. Chloe reminded her the pizza would get cold but didn’t seem too worried. The detective probably wasn’t interested in a faith debate anyway.

Stepping out onto the porch, Ella crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay, _Love Actually_ , I’m listening.”

Michael nodded and dropped the first card. The second read, _I want to be honest._

And then she watched as he continued to drop one card after another:

_Because you deserve truth. I’m sorry for it all. And I don’t expect anything. But you should know. Without you, I feel like this._

The next card was a picture, a still from a dumb commercial she’d seen more than a few dozen times on TV for Windex maybe? Some cleaning product. In the still a CGI pigeon had just flown into a sliding glass door. Ella giggled again at that and covered her mouth. She’d blow their respective cover if Chloe heard her laugh. She was supposed to be in a very serious theological debate.

Michael grinned broadly and it was so rare to see such an unguarded look on him. It was beautiful when he did it. Different from Lucifer both because she only saw him as an older brother---not an issue with Michael---and because Michael’s smiles were hard to spot.

Like a precious, secret gift.

He nodded and continued with his card.

_I don’t want anything. I hope in time… I just hope._

That card had something else that he’d started but he’d clearly scribbled out hardcore with black sharpie. She understood. Between the necklace and this stunt, Michael wasn’t completely avoiding a full court press. However, Ella was flattered with what he was doing. He’d clearly been studying up on chick flicks, since he’d admitted that was never his thing, more like Bogart stuff.

The cue cards continued.

_Because you make me feel. Amazing, invulnerable… Like I can do anything._

And she shook her head, her brow furrowing in concern. She was hardly anyone’s muse or really a rock for anyone either. Sure, she was the perky one at work, but she wasn’t a hero for anyone. Ella was too messed up for that. She just didn’t stare at him, saw more with him, and she hated other people got caught up with the arm.

Michael’s stack was getting small which was good cause she was sure he was having a bit of trouble finessing them with mostly just one hand.

_I feel like this. And I like that._

He dropped those cards revealing the final two. First a brilliant peacock with tail feathers spread to contract with the flattened cartoon pigeon from earlier. And then a final image of just a giant red heart colored in with at least two markers (she could tell from the shading) and a “U.”

Ella swallowed hard. He was probably projecting himself, wasn’t used to someone treating him as an equal or friend, to someone being willing to look past the wounds and the sluggish right side of his. That couldn’t be love. It couldn’t.

Although clearly for him it had to at least be a compelling crush.

Even if he was, as messed up as it was, the first person in a very long time she’d had romantic feelings at all for. She tended not to, not really, and Frederico had been an exception. A fellow student in chemistry class, Nina, who had run hot and then cold with her very fast too came to mind. But no, Ella…Michael had still lied.

She shook her head and rubbed at the tears in her eyes. “That was sweet. Totally weird but sweet.”

Michael looked up at her with wide, brown eyes, and she felt she could lose herself in them if she weren’t careful. “I was serious, Ella. I know I have to give you even more time, but I am being honest too. You make me feel better, like I’m not as broken as I am.”

She nodded. “You have a low bar, Michael. That’s all. Other women…they can see what I can. I’m sure better, cooler girls could. You’re pretty easy on the eyes, you know.”

Michael nodded down to his right arm that lay listlessly at his side after he’d made it work over time to help support his cue cards. “I don’t always believe that. _Lucifer_ is quite something,” he continued. “I am the consolation prize, the shadow, and I’ve known that for forever. With you, though, I just…it fits.”

He sighed and picked up his cards. “I don’t want to derail Tribe Night, Ella.”

She laughed. “More like movie night with the Deckers. All the other girls had to bail, you know? One day we could have one again, maybe. Maybe a lot of us do something at the penthouse? Lucifer has a sweet movie set up.”

Michael brightened at that. “With plenty of buffers?”

“Yeah. I…friends watch movies, right?”

His smile fell, and she tried not to feel bad about that. He’d violated her trust first, not the other way around. “Yes, well, I’ll speak with Sammy about that. I’d like that very much, Ella. I’ve been discovering such good movies lately.”

She laughed again, and it felt good to be this relaxed since she’d figured out who he was and wasn’t. “I can tell. Good night, Michael.”

“Good night, Ella.”

Chloe opened the door to call her back in and Ella gave a panicked looked to the doorknob before then turning back to Michael. Before she could ask him to leave fast, he was already gone. Like nowhere. Not limping down the street. Not anything, just gone and the strangest breeze had blown up in his wake.

On a clear night no less.

Confused, Ella looked around once more, but Michael wasn’t there.

_How on earth?_

When she glanced down, she caught sight of a long feather, as big as those bizarre ones she still had locked in her desk drawer from the loft shoot out over a year ago. It was about as long as a quill, but the feather was damaged, missed actual feather material on it. As if a predator---and _what_ hunted a bird (?) that big---had gotten to it.

Shaking her head, Ella grabbed the feather and shoved it into her jacket pocket. Maybe she could compare it to the white one. It was just so big…there was no way they could have come from even a condor. Like they were fake bits of cosplay, but they seemed more than that. Sometimes, when she pulled the white feathers from her drawer, she almost felt like they _glowed_ , which was totally bananas.

This feather was dull and brittle. But it was still odd, still gave her just the most surreal feeling, almost a secure one. So, she’d keep it, and let her mind keep working through the puzzle pieces.

It was what she was good at, after all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The fact that he had a date, kind of, was stressing Michael out. It wasn't technically a date. As Ella had suggested, it was a group hang out thing. Originally Mazikeen, Linda, Amenadiel, and Charlie had been set to come. However, Mazikeen got a tip on a last-minute bounty in Sacramento and, unfortunately, Charlie had caught a bug from daycare. 

That was...disappointing in a way.

So, their watch party was down to five: him, Sam, Chloe Decker and her daughter, and Ella. Honestly, Michael assumed even a month out from his ruse ending that such an arrangement was too much for Ella---too few buffers---but she'd made a commitment and his older brother and Linda had only pulled out a few hours ago. 

Thus, Ella would honor her promises. And thus, he was _freaking out_. Stupid of him. Maybe. To pretend to be Samael with Chloe had been one thing, and honestly something he'd failed to do well once reality hit and it had turned his stomach to not just inveigle an innocent but a Miracle into affection. He hadn’t lasted long even trying it. Then, he and Ella had shared two kisses, one she was furious about or had been. A second, she didn't remember and wouldn't have even graced him with if not for her need to distract him for the taser that couldn't work on him. But his experience with humans and anything amorous was relegated to a lie and, more or less, being shot through with electricity soon after.

In short, Michael even after decades on earth, knew fuck all about dating.

Not that this was a date.

It wasn't. It was a friendly movie night complete with a mouthy preteen in tow. Trixie had figured him out right away and been very vocal with Chloe that "Lucifer came back wrong," which had been yet another hiccup Michael hadn't planned for. The child had been right, and who knew she'd cherished such insulting nicknames from Sam?

But a month later, while Chloe tolerated him for arranging things with Duma...Trixie _loathed_ him. 

Which fine then, it wouldn't be that much of a date. Just him as a fifth wheel to his brother and his girlfriend and, uh, pet urchin and Ella too.

No need to freak out.

Nope, he was freaking the fuck out. And hadn't figured out even what to wear. Part of him figured his standard of neutral slacks, blazer, and a turtleneck would suffice. Though part of him fretted over if, perhaps, a band t-shirt (Led Zeppelin held a trace of irony to it) and jeans was better. Casual.

Or maybe he should ask Sammy to borrow something?

No, scratch that. Chloe Decker would kill him. No more "roommate-ing" Samael as Ella called it.

Michael sighed, a towel around his waist from the shower, as he hovered over his modest sartorial choices. 

Of course, Sam chose that moment to step out in a dark black suit over as dark a shirt and a red pocket square and look presentable and collected. Neither thing Michael felt for himself.

"Well, that's a wardrobe choice, Mikey, but I do think the urchin and the Detective would prefer you wear clothes."

He gave his brother a glare, forcing a brilliant flash if gold to his eyes. He was wounded and lesser, but Michael was still Demiurge, and Sam should know when to back off.

Samael being Samael of course did not.

His brother bounded easily down the stairs from his bedroom and circled the couch. "Well, we've got at least some taste in music beyond freeform jazz, do we? Not my favorite," his twin continued, his expression sour. "Not quite one to want a ‘Stairway to Heaven,’ but it's a sight bit better than your snore fest of beige, Mikey. If you want to charm Miss Lopez..."

He held up his hand even as his eyes went back to brown. "We're just friends. You know, Sammy. Friends who hang out. I don't need anything special."

His brother chuckled and adjusted his cuffs. Michael expected him to straighten his ring, the one a perfect twin to his own, but it was gone. 

Michael gaped at Samael. "Where is it?"

"Your fashion sense? Haven't a clue."

"No, the ring. I...you couldn't have lost it."

Sam sobered a little. "I gifted it to the Detective. I thought over what Linda meant with actions. I would never leave this plane, let alone for Hell without Father's gift. I loathe Him, but the ring has its uses."

"Of course, it does. He gave them to us before we shaped the universe for a reason."

"Yes, and it's the most valuable possession I own. I trust Chloe with my life, so I trust her with a blessed object. She knows I won't leave here without it so if I'm ever tempted---"

"Duma will keep his post."

Sam sighed. "Yes, but it was an action the Detective could understand." He shrugged. "Bloody well worked. I'm no longer in the doghouse, and the offspring and the Detective will be here shortly for a hang out, much like old times."

Michael brought his fingers to the cool, onyx like stone of his own ring. He, unlike Sam, could return home. He just found no comfort there. Like his twin, he hated Father, couldn't understand all the suffering He'd allowed. Personally, Michael would never go back to the Silver City, could not deal with the stares and whispers of his siblings, but he'd never get rid of the ring either. It wasn't exactly that Sam had dispensed with his own, but the thought of a mortal, even a blessed one, with it seemed like sacrilege. Then again, Samael's gamble had worked, and he'd managed to show his devotion to Chloe Decker.

Michael would have to figure out more what actions meant, maybe bring it up at his next solo session with Linda. At least he and Ella were talking again. She had seemed mostly amused by his first romcom idea. 

He was thinking over more as well.

"Brother, the Detective and her spawn will be here in mere moments. It's rather unseemly for you to go so...al fresco. Pick something. I suggest the t-shirt. At least you won't look like a morgue attendant."

He scowled at his younger brother. "We could just punch it out again, Samael."

Sam snorted. "As tempting as walloping you would be, having the Detective pressed up against me is far better. Get Zeppelin on Mikey, chop-chop. After all, your date should be here shortly too."

Michael grabbed the turkey neck and slacks just to spite his twin. "I can pick my own clothes, Sammy. Also, it's _not_ a date."

Sam regarded him with wide, serious eyes for about five seconds before bursting into a broad, shit-eating grin. "Well dearie me, how could I have ever made such a mistake?" 

His twin turned on his heels and headed back to his room, probably to continue shellacking his hair into place. That was one of the bigger advantages of not being Samael---less prep. Michael had no patience for it, and his own hair was already curling on his head as it dried. 

Once Sam was back in his bathroom, Michael made short work of changing, still unsure if he'd picked the right clothes. But it was a hangout and _not_ a date. Best to be as she usually saw him.

Exactly.

And to try and ignore how hot it suddenly was in the penthouse. Seriously, was Sam's AC okay?

**

The _not_ a date was going on.

That was the most Michael could say for it. That it existed.

He was at the far corner of Samael's massive sectional, then Sam was near him but far enough down the couch, so they weren't touching. After that, Chloe was curled into Samael's side and even Trixie was piled on too, at least enough to lay mostly _on top_ of Sam's left arm. A small gratified part of Michael was smug that with his Miracle here, his brother was going to learn all about “pins and needles,” a sensation he's heard colleagues rant about after long, cramped staff meetings over the decades.

Ella was on the other side of Trixie, staking out the furthest corner of the couch and sat with her knees up to her chest. She'd worn a unicorn shirt this time with the pink words "Heavy Metal" under it. He was pretty sure it was a periodic table joke, but he wasn't sure what type.

It had been a struggle to keep his eyes on the film, something called _Pitch Perfect_ that was almost a musical. Trixie had paused the movie at the audition scene to explain for her last talent show (and to remind Samael that he'd been _gone_ ) she'd done the cups routine too. His twin, for once, hadn't sung along or demanded attention, but he had hummed a bit under his breath as he'd played with Chloe's hair.

Michael had worked very hard to avoid the pointed scowls Trixie kept sending his way and to prevent himself from staring at Ella the whole time. She'd come from work, had dark circles under her eyes from whatever case she was working, and seemed a bit harried. Despite all of that, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Dear Father, he had it bad. It was so unbecoming, and he almost didn't care how obvious he was...except for Sammy. He didn't want to give his idiot twin fodder to mock him.

Plus, he'd given his vow to try and give Ella time, to understand.

He'd already put her through so much.

As the movie wound down, Trixie sat up and grabbed the remote from the coffee table. "So, what's next?"

Chloe considered her daughter's question as she squinted up at the tv screen and passed through the selections on the streaming service. "Ooh! _Pretty in Pink_...it's cheesy but your grandma would play it for me and bring me tons of chicken soup to cheer me up if I was sick or if I had a crappy audition."

Trixie scrunched her nose up at the date. "It's like ancient! Like 35 years almost super old."

Ella blushed. Interesting. Michael had never asked her age, and it was always hard for him to gauge with humans. He'd have assumed her late twenties but her reaction to Trixie's statement told him that he'd estimated too low.

Samael seemed to also sense the change in Ella's mood and tsked a bit at the pre-teen. "That's hardly a blink, child. Michael and I are a young thirteen billion or so, and we're mostly spry."

Trixie ducked her head and glanced at Ella as Chloe cued up the film. "I'm sorry, Mom and Miss Ella, I wasn't thinking. I guess the movie's not _that_ old."

Ella seemed to calm, letting her arms go loose and her knees uncurl. "No biggie. I'm sure it's still gonna blow your mind to see a movie before cell phones were a thing."

"I think so!" Trixie said. Then, she turned her gaze to him. "I mean, you're still pretty spry, Lucifer. He's not."

Chloe Decker sat up and glared at her offspring as Sam called her. "That was rude, Trixie-babe."

The girl sat up straighter and set her hands on her hips, her focus zoned in with laser precision to Michael. "So what? He deserved it. He lied to us for months, and it hurt cause no one believed me, and now we're all pretending it's fine. That sucks!"

"Beatrice Espinoza, you can't just yell at people," Chloe said. "You need to apologize."

Chloe said that part with less than compelling enthusiasm as if she were reciting the rules by rote herself. To be honest, after what he'd put both Deckers through, Michael couldn't blame them.

Trixie wasn’t done with her anger. The girl hopped to her feet and still had her hands on her hips and her chest puffed up. Michael was both chastened---for this was truly the most honesty about his stunt he’d heard since the fight at _Lux_ \---and amused. The girl _knew_. She knew what he was, and had to understand that his being the Sword of God, even maimed as he was, came with more power than she could fathom, and she was yelling at him anyway.

He decided then that, as annoying as she was, he had a bit more respect for Trixie Espinoza than he had before. She was both brave on behalf of her slighted mother and of Samael too, and, to be honest, a complete idiot for trying to scream at half of the Demiurge.

“I’m not apologizing! You thought I was making stuff up for two months. He was like _making out with you_ a few times, and what even is that? And now we’re just gonna watch movies and pretend it’s fine and not creepy?” Trixie shrugged. “Don’t you have anywhere else to go now?”  
  


Michael decided that he also would give Trixie points for being shrewd, not even for her age, just period. However, he couldn’t say that the truth didn’t sting. “Honestly, Trixie, I don’t.”

It cost him a lot to admit that. To admit that the most he had going for him were two brothers who barely tolerated him and loaned him parts of their lives, and a sister he barely saw in between her psychopomp duties. For someone who was ancient and who had had four decades almost to create a life on earth beyond that, Michael had almost nothing to show for it.

“You should really work on that,” Trixie shouted.

Michael got to his feet with some effort---it always took effort---and headed toward the balcony. He needed the breeze and the space. He didn’t expect anyone to care about his leaving, since Trixie had to be saying what they all were thinking but were just too polite and grown-up to say.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder for only a moment when Sam, of all beings, stood and shook his head at Trixie. “Spawn, that wasn’t called for.”

The pre-teen, who apparently wanted to fight with all the Demiurge in one night, started in on a rant about the whole situation for the Devil. Michael found he was too tired to care. Easing the sliding glass door open with his good arm and hand, he slid out into the night. It was obvious to him why Samael had chosen such a building to live in. Michael had no illusions that Sam didn’t also have property scattered all over at least Southern California if not the world. However, the balcony of _Lux’s_ penthouse had a beautiful view of the city below. And he doubted his twin was quite dumb enough to just fly in and out of the penthouse. Maybe. Then again, Sam was never bothered with Celestial or Infernal secrecy even now. However, it would be so easy to get in and out of _Lux_ this way too.

Michael leaned forward and let the breeze sweep through his hair. It took a minute and some maneuvering, but he was used enough to that.

Sighing, Michael tried not to listen in to whatever full-fledged fight Trixie and Sam were still quite vocally engaged in. Honestly, he didn’t even think the fight was _all about him_. Clearly, the girl was as hurt as Mazikeen or her mother had been that Samael had left for Hell at all. She had things to get off her chest, and he’d been the convenient first volley in a long laundry list of hate and frustration.

And she wasn’t even wrong.

He had done something shameful, so far beneath the general he’d once been…so long ago, it might as well have been a dream. The Defender of the Church, the Prince of Heaven, the Voice of the Presence didn’t lower himself to steal the Adversary’s girlfriend and his life. Except he had tried. It hadn’t worked, and it had fit him _horribly_ , but Michael had still tried, and Trixie wasn’t wrong to be furious with him.

And, again, she had to be just parroting things her mother had said or things that they _all_ felt deep down but were too reserved or polite to say. Perhaps things that they didn’t want to say because they pitied him. Even Azrael, who had mostly been kind to him in the Silver City _after_ as he reminded her of Samael…it was hard to be pitied and fretted about by one’s younger sister. But it was no less true.

Michael was just pathetic enough to take advantage of the kindness, such as it was, because Trixie was right. He had nowhere else to go but his twin brother’s couch.

So little to show for such an endlessly long life.

Such were his thoughts when he felt a small, soft hand on his good shoulder. At first, Michael thought it could be Trixie, compelled to apologize again. He forced himself to relax and try and be cheery for her sake. If she were offering an olive branch, even one that Chloe Decker and Samael had made her give, it was the least he could do to accept it.

Except when he turned, he found Ella there instead.

Behind her, the sliding glass door was shut, and through it, he could see his brother pacing, Chloe standing and looking between her child and her boyfriend, and Trixie going red-faced with her shouting.

_Oh, so it was going that well_.

“You needed a place to get rest for a moment too?” he asked.

Ella laughed and dropped her hand. She slid next to him on the balcony and leaned against the railing to stare out to the city skyline. He appreciated that. It was easier to talk without facing all her scrutiny head on as well.

“I don’t think Trix is over Lucifer leaving for months.”

“Are you?”

“I’m working on it. I think it would help if I knew where he’d gone? I mean, he says Hell, and you mentioned work for your Dad, which probably _feels_ like Hell---”

“Oh, it is.”

“But I get why the kid is pissed.” She shrugged. “I don’t want to hear it though, too much like a family fight. I think that’s best between the three of them to figure out.”  
  


Michael laughed ruefully. “So you’re out here talking to me by default because I chose the best hiding space?”

“I could have gone to _Lux_ to party,” she answered, knocking his left side playfully with her shoulder. If she were even a fraction of his size, she would have bumped somewhat shoulder to shoulder, but Ella wasn’t, and her gesture landed somewhere on his side. “You seemed upset.”

“Trixie is honest.”

“Trixie’s eleven. She also is clearly pissed at Lucifer, so, you know, it made some sense to take it out on you.”

“She’s still not wrong. I did horrible things to all of you, and I’m _hardly_ spry.” He sighed and rubbed at his bad shoulder.

It was starting to ache horribly. He could feel both wings under his skin straining to be free. They did that, came out when he was stressed or if he’d held them in too long. Both were true, and Michael tried to ignore the cramps in his upper back and keep the wings away. The four of them had decided that Ella shouldn’t know about Celestial business, and, even if he thought she should, that was something for honestly _Azrael_ to explain to her since they’d known each other the longest. Or even Sam. It was not a job for him.

  
And his wings were not a valid bit of proof.

Not at all.

They were gnarled and molted half-way and just wrong, and he couldn’t see them as accurate offerings of divinity. Damn it, even when he’d had normal wings, Samael’s had always shone the brightest, a clear sign of his birthright as Father’s favorite.

So, no, the wings had to stay put, even as the spasms wracking him felt like they were growing worse by the moment.

Ella reached out and set her hand over his. “Yeah, you did some crappy things, dude. To be fair, we all do from time to time. I mean, this was like a ton of crappy things at once, you know? Like getting out all your crappy behavior in a binge. I get the feeling Luce is the one who acts out all the time, and you usually haven’t before.”

“Does it show that much?”  
  


“No one who loves the intricacies of 1930s tax law probably is that into breaking rules,” she replied, winking up at him.

“True.”

“I do get it. I don’t get using me or Chloe, but I do get the need to mess with your brothers. Ricardo and me especially always used to go at it, you know? He’s the next youngest after me, and we were only about eleven months apart. So we just always fought. I pulled some crazy pranks on him when we were in high school, trust me.”

“Were they all law abiding?”

“Nope,” she said, giggling a little. And what a marvelous sound that was. “That’s all I’ll say. I did get arrested but never charged for one of them. Ricardo was freaking out over where his car was ‘stolen to’ for a week. So priceless.”

“You have many secrets, don’t you, Ella Lopez?”

She nodded. “You don’t know the half of it. For what it’s worth, I think Lucifer is really serious about defending you. I guess the punching it out, and the sessions with Linda are working well. I can tell he cares.”

Michael nodded. “How odd is it? Once Samael was the black sheep.”

“Heard all about that.”

“But here with Amenadiel on eart…in _Los Angeles_ , he’s downright respectable, and I’m the one who’s messed up so badly. I…I am used to my siblings looking at me with disgust.” He couldn’t stop his right shoulder from spasming, well, most of his right side from spasming. It was the stress. “I am less used to people I am beginning to care about looking at me with justified anger.”

Ella was silent for a while. He kept his gaze out to the view, as he couldn’t bear her wide-eyed scrutiny on him. It was well-meaning, but it hurt too much. “I’m still angry at both of you. I feel like you’re both bluffing or whatever it is Lucifer says to pretend to himself he never lies.”

Michael laughed at that. Oh yes, the Devil lied but to be fair it seemed as if his brother mostly lied to himself, couldn’t see the comforting truths he told himself for what they actually were. “Sometimes not talking about our family and what Father wants from us is easier. As you can tell, our family is messed up.”

“I think it’s good that you’re trying, and I get brothers being a lot.”

Michael nodded and kept looking out at the stars. Samael had shaped them, given them form and pattern, but without his ability to Create, the stars never would have come to be. Sometimes with his flashier nature, it seemed like Sam forgot that. “Complicated family, definitely. We’re trying, and honestly after what I did to his life for a couple months and what I did to him in that fight---well, he just hides his pains better than I do mine---but it’s slow sometimes. It feels overwhelming to build a life.”

Ella bumped his side again playfully. “I get where you’re coming from, dude. Moving to Los Angeles was nothing like I thought it was. Traffic here is totally bonkers for one. But it took a while, and it didn’t really fit till my friend Rae Rae encouraged me to apply to the opening in the precinct I’m at now. I dunno how she knows cause she’s…” Ella’s eyes widened, and he knew there was something else she was going to say but she steered the topic away from that. “Anyway, once I was at the precinct with Lucifer and Dan and Chloe, it all really clicked. Plus, now that I have Margaret, I have also ended up meeting other BCEs.”

Michael finally turned from the stars and gazed back at Ella who was blushing just a little, a hint of red coloring her cheeks. “What is a BCE? I can’t say I’ve heard the term.”

“Bathtub chicken enthusiast!” she said. “Maybe eventually you and Margaret will get to interact better. She kind of gets squawky sometimes.”

“I can tell,” he said. “It makes me feel better to know it was hard for other people too. You seem so outgoing. I never would have thought that moving was hard for you too.”

Ella squeezed his left hand tightly before letting it go. “I think families really can get their hooks in you, you know? They tell you all these things so you think you can’t make it on your own. Sometimes my mom and even my abuela still call and tell me to come home. But you said you’d been other places before here.”

“Yeah, but it hadn’t been going well.”

Ella laughed at that. “I kind of guessed that, what with you ‘roommate-ing’ Lucifer. But a lot of people are transplants to Los Angeles. I can show you my favorite place for seafood maybe? I know a place that does great ceviche!”

“I don’t know what that is either.”

“It’s like sushi but the citrus cures it. It’s all lemon and zesty,” she said. “I mean we’d go eventually, when we get the handle of hanging out again,” she said.

He nodded. “I know because patience and time, and patching things up with my brothers and _a lot_ of therapy.”  
  


She frowned up at him. “So, about the other night…”

He blanched at that and tried to ignore the next spasm in his shoulder and the way his wings still desperately wanted out. Stupid, defective things. “I guess the cue cards were too much, but I saw it in a movie, and---”

“I don’t advise everything you see in movies, but that is how I learned how to do a burn out. _The Weaponizer_ films are total classics.”

“Ah, yes, Sam has suggested them, but they didn’t sound like my thing. However, perhaps we’ll trade. I like noir, so I might trade him some _His Girl Friday_ for modern action crap.”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. It wasn’t the cue cards I was gonna ask about.”

He shuddered, feeling his wings shift a little under the surface of his skin, like ripples, and Michael hoped it was too dark for Ella to notice. “What else would you ask about?”

She sighed and pulled a long and familiar feather from her jean jacket. “When I thought Chloe was gonna interrupt, I turned, and you were gone. Like poof! And there was one of these left behind. I have others I saw at that big loft shoot out with the fake, so-not-a-lieutenant, but they’re white. I never figured out where they came from. Even a condor or a harpy eagle wouldn’t be that huge. But the material isn’t fake or like some kind of cosplay thing. Then again from the blood on the white ones, I was able to sequence DNA, and it wasn’t…it needs _extra_ letters.” She deflated a bit. “There was no blood with the grey one, and it’s kind of patchy…Like if it were Margaret, I’d almost say she’d pulled at it or big chunks were just gone like from a yank. I don’t…but it’s _too big_ like the white ones to even be a bird and like hello! It’s so not a bird. I even called an ornithologist from UCLA after the loft thing and they said no bird they even knew had feathers like this. Sometimes, they’re also like totally sharp! There are edges there that don’t make sense, the way that they can adhere to be a blade. So, it’s all bonkers!”

Michael paused and hoped no shock showed on his face. The last thing he’d needed that night was for Chloe Decker, in all her (yes, justified) ire, to spot him. Thus, he’d forced his wings to work as best they could and half-flown, half-hobbled out of there. Fast enough to avoid human scrutiny.

Or so he’d thought.

He blinked at her and tried to absorb Ella’s stream of consciousness, the way she tended to rant so fast when she was in full-fledged science mode. “I…what?”

“What is this? Everyone told me that I passed out at the lab and that’s why I woke up and didn’t remember it in my bed, but I had the weirdest dream and I swear I kissed you at _Lux_ , and, okay, maybe tasered you a little but you didn’t feel a thing!” She readjusted her ponytail. “Lucifer’s always had weird stories, and I just filed cases that didn’t make sense away like the blade he was so into getting back, but it’s all a lot all the time and then the case at _The Mayan_ with so many dead bodies we had to call into the FBI and stuff to get it squared away and one of Maze’s blades was totally there. I just…what even is going on?”

Michael decided he’d play dumb. It wasn’t something he’d had to do much over the years because he got involved so little with humans that they never bothered to ask him questions, but Ella was curious and smart and Samael already had a big mouth. She was getting more and more questions than answers.

But answers meant proof, and all he had to show for any of it really was wings that were so ruined, it pained him to see them at all. He couldn’t show them to her. After all, he was hardly the Sword of God these days.

Besides, Samael and Amenadiel didn’t want her to know, had explained to Michael how dangerous it all was. And the thought of something trying to burn Ella alive or a madman having his underlings shoot her or a rogue angelic sibling threaten her…it was too much for Michael to bear. He’d rather only tell her half truths and keep her alive, than drag her into the craziness that followed him and his family around.

Chloe and Linda were already taking big enough risks on their own.

Not that Linda could avoid it now that she was also the mother of the only Nephilim he’d ever heard of.

“I don’t know what you’re asking. I wasn’t here for all the cases you’ve worked, and I don’t know how LAPD murder cases can tie to feathers. If that even is a feather,” Michael said. “If you ask me, it’s too bedraggled to be one anyway. You said it yourself about cosplay and---”

“I don’t think tasering you was a dream. I don’t think you _not reacting_ was a dream. I don’t…I don’t know what I’m saying but I guess I’m working up to, ‘Is this feather yours?’”

Michael laughed and it was coming out more like a cackle. Because he had no idea how to deflect things, how to make things easier on any of them. He just had never been accused of being an angel by a mortal before.

Which he barely was anyway.

“How would I have a feather?”

She quirked her head at him. “How would you get tased and not even feel it?”

“And you fainted at the lab and---”

Ella swallowed hard and rubbed at her eyes, which were shinier than Michael would have liked. “Please don’t lie. I’ve spent so much of my life worried if I’m going crazy or not, and I can’t…I can’t explain it now because if I have to talk about _that_ and get this out of you, I’ll really crack. I just…is Lucifer actually _that_ Lucifer or a method actor because I’m suddenly not sure anymore about any of it?”

He turned to her, completely facing her now instead of just over his shoulder. Reaching out, he took the feather from her hands, and tried not to glare at its ruined tufts or the bent quill. At all its myriad imperfections were apparent to any Host. Even a human like Ella could see it was…at best, like the over plucked feather of a chicken. But it was still divine, and she shouldn’t have it. He’d have to let Sam know she had some of his. Amenadiel could help them get to her office and make quick work of that eventually with his skillset.

“Ella, I know you passed out hard. I know that had to have been scary for you, but we never met a _Lux_ , and I didn’t get tasered, and I definitely don’t have pristine, white feathers. Or any good feathers at all.” He didn’t have any compunctions about lying, unlike his twin, but sometimes it was easier to skate around the truth. Made keeping things straighter also easier. “I’m sorry you thought differently but---”

Tears trailed down her cheeks and she sniffled. “God, you must think I’m just totally _loca_ about all of this. But the dream _felt_ real, and this feather doesn’t gleam like the other ones but it’s weird too and I don’t know what’s happening.”

He swallowed hard at that. No, his feathers didn’t glow like the rest of the Host’s did either. And, of course, even now, Samael’s were brightest of all.

“Ella, I’m sorry.”

“I am too,” she said, pulling away from him. Michael took the moment to tuck the feather away in his sport coat inner pocket. It was already a mess, getting crushed wouldn’t do it any extra damage. “I thought someone would tell me the truth. I guess you’re not good at that.”

“It is the truth. You passed out at the lab---”

“Then maybe I’m worse off than I thought,” she said, shaking her head and turning back to the penthouse. “Maybe movie night was too much. I promised and even after Charlie got sick and I…”

“Ella, please, you can stay. I’m sure that Trixie and Sam have gotten things sorted out by now. We can watch the other movie.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. It’s hard to concentrate on something when you’re not even sure you’re sane,” Ella finished, brushing past him, and hurrying to the door.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

The next week or so, Ella expected Lucifer to pop into her lab and try and convince her too that she was cracking up. Sometimes she wasn’t sure she’d already cracked up at eight. Who was to say that all the stress from the car accident and rehab hadn’t driven her nuts? Her family had always thought so. It could explain wherever Rae Rae came from. Was it any crazier that she was just not well than that she had seen _just one ghost_ on and off her whole life? One who since their big _Buffy_ -fest hadn’t been around lately.

She’d tried calling her a few times after her fight with Michael at _Lux_ , but maybe Ghost Rules meant Rae Rae couldn’t just be summoned.

Or that Ella, realistically, had never seen a ghost at all and it was more proof along with her dumbass “weird feathers” theory that what exactly? The actual, literal, Biblical Devil worked with her? That Satan bothered taking time off from what had to be a busy schedule to listen to her ramble about synthetic wood in the lab? Oh, and that meant Amenadiel was an angel and Charlie was half and that Michael, of course, was not only an angel but _Saint Michael_ …and, oh Big Guy, Michael must have thought she really was bonkers.

Ella wasn’t even sure he was wrong, and she hated not knowing the difference.

But Lucifer hadn’t mentioned her batshit theory to her all week. So, perhaps, thank the Big Guy for small mercies, Michael had let it slide and not told anyone else. And, apparently, kept that feather with him. Which was fine. She had like half a dozen, bloodied white others in her lab. That grey one wasn’t necessary for her to keep trying to figure everything out.

But she missed it, oddly.

It was driving her nuts, true, but it was comforting in some way that the other feathers weren’t. Probably because she was definitely struggling with _un montón de locuras_ or because she was too weird by half. Or maybe the grey one didn’t have blood splatter, and that was helpful too.

Still, it was better Michael held onto it, and they all just pretended she hadn’t sounded like a conspiracy theorist asking him if he and his brothers were angels (or a Fallen angel in Lucifer’s case). If Chloe and even Dan heard that around the station too, they’d be worried about her.

Hell, Ella was worried about herself.

She had just finished feeding Margaret, who was in a pissy mood, to be honest, because she was molting. A lot. However, she’d helped get Margaret settled with fresh food and water for dinner and helped her with the fallen feathers. Then she’d scrubbed up, put on some jammies, and settled in to rewatch some _BSG_ , the _old school_ version. That was total brain comfort food since she and her dad had always loved the reruns together when she was a kid.

The credits had barely started rolling---old shows and their theme songs---before her cell rang. She looked down at the screen and recognized the number (and the Detroit area code) instantly. Picking it up on the second ring, she answered for her mom, “Mamí, como estás?”

Her mother answered back in Spanish. “You know, you never call enough, Ella. It’s been almost two weeks since you called last. Your Papí and I want to hear from you more often.”

Ella sighed and pulled her knees up to her chest. “I know, but the cases get crazy busy, and, honestly, my friend Lucifer’s twin brother is in town, and that’s been causing all kinds of drama and just gotten confusing.”

That was as good a word as any for it.

Her mother perked up on the other end and there was a slight crackle of static, and Ella figured someone else had slipped onto the phone at a different receiver. “Really? Complicated in a good way, I hope.”

As Ella suspected, her abuelita (the one who had gone with her to the opera when Chloe had dropped out on Lucifer) was practically buzzing with energy when she chimed in, “Oh! Mija, tell me you’ve _finally_ found a nice, young man.”

Ella wouldn’t exactly describe Michael as young, but she was halfway through her thirties, so she was no spring chicken. Even _Margaret_ wasn’t a spring chicken by now. Besides, he definitely wasn’t hers. More like very frustrating and even more confusing.

“I…no, but Michael is hanging around the station and _Lux_ a lot so it just can be things to juggle.”

Her mom spoke next. “Juggling sounds great!”

“Mamí, abuelita---”

After that there was a tag team from both of them reminding Ella how she wasn’t getting any younger, how they were waiting for grandchildren---and what about her _four_ brothers; like Jay couldn’t be responsible and start a family by now---and how she needed to sweep up anyone she could. Great, like Ella was the last item on special at a fire sale or something.

  
And then, her mom went and made things worse by also adding to the not-so-subtle pleas for grandchildren a second time, “Remember, Ella, if he’s willing to take you around talking _locuras_ , then you need to grab him now, chica!”

She almost dropped her cell at that. “What?”

It hurt to talk. Somehow, after years out of Detroit except for visits home for Christmas, it was easier to pretend her family didn’t judge her constantly for her illness…ghost seeing… _whatever_ it was. (Although Ella was pretty sure it _wasn’t_ demonic possession. The exorcism hadn’t changed a damn thing.)

Her abuelita echoed her mom’s words. “Exactly, mija, if Lucifer’s brother is even a little interested, well, just don’t let him know about the demon problem.”

“Rae Rae was a ghost,” she said. Ella had finally grown into enough common sense that by college she’d stopped talking about Rae Rae with her relatives. Her family _certainly_ didn’t need to know that Ella had seen Rae Rae less than a month ago. “It’s different.”

“Ella, just don’t mention it to him at all. Don’t do anything…you,” her mother said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ella yelped.

Her mom clarified for her. Joy. “Talk about those star shows you like or talk too much about your job. Men don’t like smart women, you know that.”

“And,” her abuela cut in. “you can’t ever talk about that demon you used to see.”

“She was a _ghost_!” Ella shouted, suddenly far more tired than even a full day in the lab plus bonus chicken wrangling should have made her. “I…I have to go.”  
  


“I just want _nietos_ before I die. Is that too much to ask?” her mom said. “I mean, Mother Mary, that I should ever get to enjoy what my sister, Rosa, has. She’s already got three. I’m blessed with five non-starters as kids instead.”

“Then talk to Caesar or Ricardo or _anyone else_!” Ella said.

“But the home is the woman’s job,” her grandmother reminded. “It is nice that modern women want a career, but you need to remember to settle down for a family too. If this is a nice boy, just…don’t talk _locuras_ and maybe this can actually work out.”

“For once,” her mother muttered.

Ella swallowed hard, and it felt like glass was sliding down her throat. “I have to go. Uh Margaret’s having a molting emergency.”

“Please, God help me, I want a grandchild, not a chicken! I don’t even _like feathers and_ \---”

Ella clicked her phone off and hoped that her mother would buy the chicken emergency story. She couldn’t anymore. Seriously, first she loved her job and even if she had a kid, would never quit it. Second, she had plenty of time still, if being a mom were even her thing and she wasn’t sure it was. Third, she had _four brothers,_ so harass them too. And just…Michael was complicated. Mostly because she felt like she was going crazy with all his half truths and even Lucifer’s “compartmentalizing” and the feeling that, even now, while everything was supposed to be okay, something was _off_.

She hated being lied to or worst of all…being terrified she wasn’t that sane.

Just, hey Big Guy, don’t let it be the last one.

Ella sat and tried not to brood over everything (although she totally failed) and must have watched four or five episodes in a row. All she knew was that it was getting close to one a.m, and she was going to have to pry herself off the couch instead of putting in the next DVD and, maybe, okay _definitely_ , chomping down on her third bowl of popcorn.

_Note to self: let home go to voicemail next time. Erm, the next few times…_

She stood up, finally realizing that waking up in six short hours would go better if she hadn’t gotten a crink in her neck from passing out on the sofa and set her bowl back on her kitchen counter. Not a hard feat since her apartment’s main room was a combination office/gaming palace/and kitchen anyway. However, Ella had no sooner put the popcorn bowl away when she heard music.

At first, she thought she had to be hallucinating it. Then, a few of her neighbors started shouting at whatever idiot was out on the street…playing _Cielito Lindo_ of all things.

Confused and curious because who was up at this hour on a street corner playing anything, Ella stuck her head out her den window. There stood Michael, in his usual cashmere sweater and unassuming and very brown jacket and pants, holding up a boom box with his good hand over his head. She was actually impressed that he’d found some 80s monstrosity anywhere in the city, even at a pawn shop in 2020, and that he was able to balance the heavy beast so well with one hand.

Even as he did it, he stared up at her with his dark eyes mostly defiant, as if begging her to make the next move, even as the music blasted from the box:

_Ay, ay, ay, ay_

_Canta y no llores_

_Porque cantando se alegran_

_Cielito lindo, los corazones_

_Ese lunar que tienes_

_Cielito lindo, junto a la boca_

_No se lo des a nadie, cielito lindo_

_Que a mí me toca_

She wasn’t even sure how something so dumb, so utterly wrong to do at now past one was the best thing she’d seen in a week. Maybe she’d been too keyed up worrying about her frayed sanity or maybe she was just also smarting from her mamí and her abuelita and all their pressure. But it was an oddly sweet gesture. Totally insane, but no one had ever done something entirely crazy for her. Okay, except the cue card things, which were also _Michael_. She was finding a pattern here.

Weird crap definitely happened around Michael.

Sweet, endearing, and totally crazy crap happened with him too.

And in between sometimes such touching honesty that it bowled her over. She just wasn’t sure where she stood with Michael or any of his family, and it was why she hated all of this, that topsy turvy sensation of standing on quicksand.

She wasn’t sure she was going to keep herself from sinking.

The song was still going and now at least a couple of her neighbors had gone from shouting out windows to chucking things. A few tomatoes and an orange were hurled his way but didn’t quite get there. Then, Chuck from the first floor apparently had some aim. He wound up and a tin can came hurtling for Michael.

Ella shouted a quick, “Hey watch out!”

And she watched as Michael moved incredibly fast, which surprised her considering his injuries. Still, he twisted left fast, dropped the boombox (and it was toast as it shattered to the ground), and then grabbed the can of creamed corn (really Chuck?) from the air as if that were no mean feat.

Annoyed for him and a bit by him, Ella grabbed her keys and ran down the stairs. She got out there to find Michael dripping egg yolks from his curly hair and frowning down at the ruins of his boombox. Ella, taking pity on him, bent to the ground and helped him pick up the remains of the box. She kind of wished she’d grabbed a plastic bag or something, but there was a dumpster round in the back of her apartment.

As always, Michael really did know how to show her a good time.

“Hey, how are you doing, you idiot?” she said, winking at him.

Michael had set the can of corn aside and gathered a fair chunk of the boombox up in his good arm. “I’ve had better days. I didn’t anticipate being pelted by eggs.” A bit of the yolk dripped down from his bangs, hit the (okay keeping it 100 here) considerable slope of his nose, and dripped onto his turtleneck. “Probably need to remember that people in L.A. are about as big on disruptions to their lives as the average Manhattanite.”

“Well, at least you didn’t get like shot at.”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Michael said, as he stood.

She gathered the rest of the equipment and started off first to the back of her building and the dumpster. “You and Lucifer are… _a lot_ sometimes. I mean, duh, bullets are bad. Maybe that’s more a Detroit thing. But you start serenading or going all _Say Anything_ out there, and people have a right to throw eggs and tomatoes. Jobs, hello!”

Michael nodded and let her take the boombox from him so that she could pitch it into the dumpster for herself. He sighed and leaned against the stucco of her triplex. “Ella, I can’t say I’m sorry I did it. I didn’t like how we left things the other week at Samael’s. I just…”

“How many romcoms have you seen?” she asked.

He ducked his head and a slight blush colored his cheeks. “A few. Sammy showed me some teen flicks like that _Hot Tub High School_ one.”

“He did, huh?”

“He fast-forwarded through Chloe’s big scene. It’s actually pretty early on. I let the algorithm keep running because Sam had fallen asleep. So, I ended up seeing a lot more than I ever had before.”

“And you’re trying to impress me, huh?”  
  


He wiped his hands off on his pants and, thinking better of it, pulled off his blazer and did the best he could to mop up his hair. “Maybe Sam has the right idea about pocket squares at least. I should probably carry napkins with me or something just in case.”

“Hey, a good pack of wet wipes always helps; forensic’s best friend,” she replied.

Ella frowned up at him and suddenly remembered she was in a pair of sweatpants from her college and a too large t-shirt that said “Chickens do it to cross the road.” Which seemed funny at the time especially, since she’d just gotten Margaret and into the BCE lifestyle but now felt incredibly stupid before him.

And he’d still been shady and evasive about the feather thing and it sounded dumb a week later, and she was just overly tired, …but damn it, the tasing had _felt real_ too. She knew what Chloe and Linda and even Rae Rae said about her passing out at work, but she’d never had a dream that real before.

“Ella,” he asked, waving a hand in front of her face. “Are you okay?”

She sighed. “I don’t know if I am. I just…I feel we must have left it pretty crappy last time we talked.”

“You did storm out on me, but then again, I guess I wasn’t giving you the answer you assumed I would either?”

She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t even know what answer I was hoping for, to be honest. On one hand, I accused your brother of being the literal devil and all of you of being angels of some type or another, and so that sounds crazycakes. On the other hand, at least if it’s true, _I_ don’t feel like I’m going bonkers. Oh, and I ran out of hands, so like on a foot, I guess, it sounds dumb that I brought a big ole feather to you as my proof, asked you if you were like part-bird---”

Michael’s face scrunched up as if he’d bitten into a lemon. “I wouldn’t say angels are exactly birds---.”  
  


“Sure, whatever, but I mean, you probably think I’m nuts. But you must not think I’m _that_ nuts because here you are at ass o’clock in the morning with a boombox trying to dodge produce and cans. So, I guess, what are we even doing here? Cause, bud, I have to tell you, this is so _not_ being patient and waiting for me.”

He leaned against the wall of her apartment fully and nodded at her. His hair was glued up crazily in several directions by the egg yolk, and it took everything Ella had not to laugh at the moment but instead focus on how frustrated she was with everything. She wouldn’t say that Michael blew hot and cold; that wasn’t accurate. It was more that he had always been interested in her, even back when he’d been “Lucifer,” but he was a guy with his own closet of secrets she didn’t understand, starting with exactly why and how he and his brother had fought so hard. Yeah, “he helped kicked Lucifer out” was the basic reason but considering the damage to his body and Lucifer’s elaborate delusion/metaphor/method act, it had to have had a whole hell of a lot more involved in their epic fight.

Not that Michael owed her that truth in great detail, not for something so painful as a family.

More like she wasn’t sure she could trust him when there were gaps in what she knew of him, and he couldn’t even _blame her_ for that, considering how their relationship had started.

“I do like you. I wanted to apologize and we’re at least talking again and hanging out, and Linda mentioned that I had to try and show you how honest I was with actions, and I am trying that. I don’t…I spent a lot of my life just trying to blend in, once I left home. I never dated much, and I never thought about how to…” he trailed off and shook his head, his cheeks going from slightly flushed to fire engine red.

Ella was putting the pieces together fast. Whatever else was going on with Lucifer and Michael’s family she knew it was huge, had a mix of adopted children from all over, and was so religious that she was still _very worried_ the three of them had escaped a cult. In an environment like that, it would make sense that Michael hadn’t dated much if at all, especially if his dad was like all the cranky penguins at her old Catholic school and very much against all sex, even masturbation and anything fun basically.

If opportunities had never come up, um, not the best expression. Um, if opportunities never presented themselves, especially with how shy he was about his right side… _oh_.

Oh man.

That was new.

Not bad, just overwhelming and she had to know she hadn’t added 1 and 1 together to get 3.

She stepped forward and hesitantly, placed a hand on Michael’s left bicep, which was like roughly trying to grab granite. Right cult. Cult with obviously tons of physical labor for at least the guys. Lucifer, Amenadiel, and Michael were huge, after all.

“Okay, so I’m probably jumping to a crazy conclusion here, but you mean you haven’t dated much? Is that it? Or is it more?”

Michael studied the ground as if it were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “I…I’ve had very little experience with women.” He considered his words and frowned. “I have none with men at all, to be fair. In that, I’m not interested. I am not, perhaps, as flexible as Sam. Honestly, Ella, until I met you, I was just disinterested altogether. I can’t completely explain that. I just really like you, but, no, I haven’t ever slept with _anyone_ before.”

“Ever?” she blurted, her eyes wide, and it was probably immature to just shout it like that. But she almost felt like she was staring at a unicorn. “I just…wow.”

Michael’s coloring was still scarlet, but he at least brought his eyes to look at hers. It was odd to look into his face. So much of it was Lucifer’s but it was all in his bearing, in the way his eyes were haunted in a very different way than his brother, and the hesitant hope…the way he lit up when he saw her, even now in his embarrassment, Michael was staring at her like she was like _Birth of Venus_ or something.

“Yeah, so I haven’t thought much about dating. I get hu…people learn it younger when they’re adolescents. I get that. I just never had any practice. I haven’t done anything, and I think I went overboard with the romantic comedy stuff. I _know_ I did, but I also know I got myself in a huge hole with you. I do.”

“Lies hurt, Michael.” She reminded him.

“Yes, and I was wrong to do what I did, and I’m trying to move on, but a huge part of me is afraid that you feel about me the way Trixie does…that you’re just waiting for me with so much suspicion, that you think I’ll break bad on you again. Or that there isn’t anything good in me at all.” He laughed but there was no humor in it. “You wouldn’t be the first. I mean, I was good once, great even…everything Father wanted. Then I was hurt, and I just wasn’t.”

She considered that and reached for his hand, his _right one_. It took a moment, but he unclenched it, coaxed it as best he could to laying flat in her palm. “I think you’re doing good things. I think you’re trying therapy and trying to be there for Lucifer and even Amenadiel and his family from what I hear around from, and let’s be real, Lucifer mostly as he has a big mouth.”

“Sam always did.”

God, she really wondered how “Lucifer” was short of “Samael,” cause she couldn’t make that leap, but like so much about Michael, Ella just for now had to let that go, even if her mind kept whirring away in the background. _Science-ing_ the shit out of things.

“But you’re trying to be good and not a jerk, and I respect that. I don’t think a bad person sees one seminar and tries to figure out how to make the LAPD better at fighting crime via forensic accounting.”

“It’s still a good idea!”

“Yeah, and I just…” she squeezed his hand in hers and it barely fluttered. Ella wondered if he could feel it at all, or if the damage was too severe to his nerves. And seriously, what in the Big Guy’s name had Lucifer even done to him? “Is your right side one of the reasons you’ve never…you know?”

Michael’s arm was sluggish, but he managed to yank it away from her grip. “Are you saying that you wouldn’t really date me because of my weakness?”

Ella frowned. How had they even gotten here? “I didn’t…I wouldn’t exactly. I just was surprised. Michael, when I guy looks like you, people assume things.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do. My siblings always assumed I was a burden.” He shook his head. “I thought you were different, but I can see people really are all alike everywhere.” Ella reached for his good shoulder, but he pulled back immediately as if scalded. “Don’t please. I…yes, if you must know. A lot of my hesitance has been about…I don’t even know how well I even could. I just…if that’s an issue.”

“It is in a way,” she admitted. “I---”

He didn’t let her explain. Michael turned around, faced the front of the alley, and started walking as fast as he could. Even though he hobbled a bit when his right leg grew tired---and it was clearly dragging now---he was still tall, and his long strides made quick work of the alley.

Ella trailed after him, taking a few quick steps for each shuffle he made. “Please! You have to listen to me. I just meant that now that I know whatever we have would be your first relationship…that’s so much pressure. There’s a totally different way to approach it, and how serious it would be for you and me…It’s not about the…” she stilled and looked around before hissing the word back at him to save his modesty. “The _virgin_ thing.”

“Then what is it about?” he asked, pulling out his phone with his left hand and probably pulling up a rideshare app. “You wanted to know if I ever had experience. I don’t. You got wide eyed and nervous and called it an issue and asked about my right side and I…I wanted you to be better. I should have known.” He dialed angrily at his phone. “Samael has his Miracle and Amenadiel has the mother of his child, and I have wide eyes and confusion because, yes, certain things have never come up before.”

He blanched at his own word choice and turned away from her. “Please just go, Ella.”

She wanted to reach up to his shoulder (or as far as she could reach at least) and try and reassure him. But he’d asked for her to go, and he was already skittish about touching even on his strong side. Ella hadn’t meant for anything to go this way. She’d just been overwhelmed by the truth of his situation.

Taking someone’s virginity…being a _first_ …if they even ever got that far…she just wanted to know so she could make it work, so she knew how much pressure there was, so she wouldn’t mess it up and then make Michael assume all sex was bad somehow because of _her_. It wasn’t about him, but she’d rambled and said the wrong thing and now he wasn’t talking to her, and, honestly, as personal as all that was and as badly as she’d blundered it, she couldn’t even blame him.

“I understand. I’m so sorry. I know you don’t believe me, but I didn’t mean it like that at all. I assumed you had before because you’re not bad or broken or weak, Michael.”

He snorted and his shoulder raised unevenly with the gesture. “I’m very much broken. I only felt for a while like you didn’t notice it. I’m so sorry, Ella. I won’t bother you again.”

“I---”

She didn’t know what else to say to that, so she hurried up the stairs to her third story place and tried to rest, even if all she managed was a fitful sleep. And, okay, if in the morning she snuck to the dumpster to rescue the few large chunks of Michael’s boombox---of what remained of a naïve yet sweet gesture---could anyone blame her?


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

She knew her work wasn’t up to her usual snuff. Chloe had been nice about it, and Dan hadn’t pressed her about it at all, but their latest case really shouldn’t have taken her four days to realize the trajectory of the bullet indicated a second shooter too, and she was a mess. Because she couldn’t stop thinking about Michael.

Perhaps if this was a preview of any relationship they would have had together, maybe it was for the best. Ella talked too much---even that jerk and murderer Pierce had screamed that at her---and Michael was taciturn. He had clearly at on of issues and things he wasn’t saying. She was pretty open about everything but seeing her ghost. Oh, and she was probably crazy like her family thought, trying to hide a _montón_ _de locuras_ , like her mother had said. It just wouldn’t work anyway.

But she really had had a good time at the seminar, the Mexican place, and sharing quiet moments in the lab where he’d answer her stream of consciousness when she was working hard, and he was resting his right side. He’d been so sweet with the odd gestures, badly modeled from romcoms, but if it was his first time dating…it explained the big, dramatic gestures more.

Then, like always, she’d gone and shot her mouth off.

And she hadn’t even _meant_ it. She just wanted to know what his experience was like so she wouldn’t disappoint him. How was she supposed to have known for sure? Yes, Michael had been sheltered by a beyond weird family that even Lucifer only talked about to gripe over and curse out, and, yes, he was somewhat injured. But Michael was also gorgeous, and he might not have understood it, but there were so many women who would have fallen at his feet. Hell, if Lucifer were living proof of it, even if the twins were _different_ , men would have fallen at his feet too. Anyone.

Michael could have been very experienced by now.

But he was new to so much, and Ella didn’t want to be a bad first time. Not that they’d been thinking that far or even in the ballpark yet let alone rounding all the bases, but she just…she’d been honestly surprised and her big mouth had come up again.

It wasn’t what she’d meant!

But she hadn’t been able to explain it to him. He was blocking her calls and her texts. She’d even tried an email too, but radio silence for almost a week. And she was miserable about it, and she was messing up her job over it.

It was growing late on her shift, and she was almost through analyzing the seeds and bugs left on a victim who’d been dumped at the edge of the county up in the mountains. She wasn’t quite sure about the T.O.D., but she thought that the maggots indicated it was longer than they had originally thought but she wasn’t the best at entomology and…

There was a knock on her door and, maybe, okay _a lot_ , she darted her head up, hoping against hope that it was Michael coming to see her, that he’d been willing to finally hear her out.

Her face fell but she worked hard to put her trademark perky smile back in place when she realized it was just Lucifer. They’d been strained too lately, better, since she’d gotten him to understand he couldn’t exactly bribe her either, but it was hard, and it wasn’t completely fair to him, but being near Lucifer this week had _felt_ too much like staring Michael in the face.

Her heart hadn’t been up to it.

  
So, she’d been spacing out in her lab way too much.

“Miss Lopez, would it be alright to come and speak with you for a moment?”

Ella nodded and slipped off her glasses. She’d be able to stare at slides for the next hour or so still. Lucifer talking to her for…okay the boy could talk…for the next hour or so wouldn’t really delay her. She could always run late. No reason to go home really, except to make sure Margaret got her nightly chicken feed.

They’d start the mini, toy piano training later…

Huh, maybe she needed better hobbies.

“Yeah, sure, Luce, you can come in. Nothing but me and the maggots. Having the hardest time with the death estimation this time.”

“Oh, I’m quite the expert on the rate at which bodies rot…” he started and sat down primly on one of the stools. “Perhaps I said a bit much.”

“You did and maybe you didn’t. I’m gonna pretend again you didn’t once have a weird murder hole in the woods or that you don’t know a lot of injuries even though you’re just a nightclub owner.”

“And the Devil, darling. That’s really the splashy header on my resume.”

She snorted. It could be he was method…but more and more a voice in her head that reminded her she saw and actual freaking ghost sometimes kept prodding her. If Rae Rae were possible, maybe Lucifer was _that_ Lucifer. If she was kind of a lame psychic, maybe Michael was…no, that was probably another reason he wasn’t taking her call. She had to have sounded nuts to ask him if he were an angel.

God, technically Michael would be a _saint_.

No way, just a saint wouldn’t try and steal his brother’s girlfriend. He wouldn’t be surly and grouchy and sometimes just so withdrawn. He wouldn’t.

She was just overthinking things.

Ella was bad about that too.

“Miss Lopez, you went so quiet, are you alright? I’ve noticed you’ve been, well, a bit preoccupied of late.”

Ella kept trying to smile, but she started to tear up. “I…I shouldn’t put you in the middle.”

Lucifer arched an eyebrow at her and leaned closer. “Oh, dear, tell me everything. I have a theory that getting lai…that having a lovely woman such as yourself in Mikey’s life would be good for him.”

“Nice save, dude.”

“I try,” he said, chuckling. “But I’m quite serious. I don’t mind being the go-between for you and my twin since he’s not mentioned you lately either, at least out of session.”  
  


She blanched. “You guys talk about me at joint sessions?”

“No, not really, but he mentioned a little on Tuesday that he wasn’t understanding the point of dating at all with Linda, and that was about it because after that he clammed up for the whole session.”

“Sure,” she said, glaring at him. “I mean, I like talking to you. I liked even getting all the aquarium stories from you and etc., but if I become some detail between you all that ends up at the precinct too…”

Lucifer brought a hand to his chest, fully affronted. “You’re like my dearest sister, Miss Lopez. I’d never spread a bit of gossip about you. Unless you want me to talk you up to a certain older brother and sourpuss.”

“But you haven’t talked about me this week? He didn’t talk about anything else?”

“I saw him light out of the penthouse about a week ago or so with a boombox---wherever he got it, even I can’t fathom---and I assumed at the hour it was to your abode. He was very glum when he came back so, in a rare act of discretion, I decide not to press him about it. It hardly takes a genius especially now to see that you two had quite the row.”

She sighed and set her head in her hands. “I don’t know though. I didn’t mean to say anything, but I upset him.”

Ella felt her cheeks flare red at that. Lucifer and Michael had clearly been estranged for years. After all, Michael had done a piss poor job of imitating his twin. She wasn’t sure if Lucifer knew that Michael…and it was so not her place to tell. She liked Lucifer a lot, but the dude had a big mouth.

“Well, Michael can be quite sensitive.”

“I didn’t mean it! What I said, but I don’t think he believed me either.”

Lucifer nodded. “I can say that, and perhaps you’ve noticed over the years just between myself and Amenadiel, but my family is poor at communications. My parents had a fractious divorce and they didn’t speak for a long time before that. Honestly, Mother sent the Great Flood to get Dad’s attention, and even that didn’t really work.”

Ella shook her head. “You don’t have to do that, you know. That was the best part about Michae. I mean when I thought he _was_ you and tired of the method thing. It’s okay. You had a way crappy childhood, and I still think your family is really a cult, man.”  
  


“It was not a cult, exactly.”

“Then big religious group led by a tyrant who only wanted his will done and had a lot of indoctrination, rules, and shunning punishments. Call it whatever, dude. I get your childhoods all sucked big time. But it’s okay to be honest. I mean, you’re not the real Devil.” Her hand found her way to her necklace and she gripped her cross tightly. “That’s okay too.”

Lucifer let out a long breath. “Miss Lopez, I am. I never lie.”

“You bluff!”

“I am who I am, and I am the Devil, and my parents were used to always having their way. You can guess how two deities always felt they were correct.”

She nodded and tried to ignore the cold feeling in her chest, the frustration of always being lied to, but she had the white feathers in her drawer right now. She could shove him in his face, question _Lucifer_ about the DNA that _wasn’t_ on the blood samples…and sound _loca_ again and end up driving off her friend along with _whatever_ Michael was to her.

Ella couldn’t afford to drive off two people in her life with her weird thoughts. Even if _it felt right_ , so had talking about Rae Rae once, and look where that had gotten her with her family.

But it hurt sometimes, especially when Michael had broken from it, to see Lucifer cling to the method acting and the stories. Maybe one day, he wouldn’t feel he had to do it, that he could be himself at least as much as Michael and Amenadiel were. It was more that Ella worried it hurt Lucifer to keep up the act, but maybe the trauma of whatever had gone on in his childhood was just that bad that pretending to be the Devil was easier.

“I guess, but I said something I didn’t mean. I blurted it out, but he won’t let me call him. I hate to put you in the middle too much. But can you tell him that I miss him and that I’m sorry. There are some things I can’t tell you because just no---”

“I’m trying to be closer to my twin. I’m sure he’d appreciate a more accurate message.”

“Oh, believe me, he won’t.”

“Yes, well, I’ll deliver that message with quite the emphasis to _call_ your lovely face, Miss Lopez.” He highlighted his point by reaching over, picking up her hand, and kissing the back of it. “Anything else you wish to me to relay to my imbecile of a twin?”

She giggled at that. It was the one constant about Lucifer. Even if she worried about him, even if she knew he bluffed way too much, and even if he still had such a dedication to method, he was always so charming. It was almost impossible to stay made at it. “So, over the top, dude. Anyway, now that you mention it, Michael did give me something.”

It felt like a betrayal to make her way around her lab table, and to scurry to her desk, to dig deep into her top drawer and pull out the caffeine molecule necklace he’d given her. Yanking it out, Ella turned back to Lucifer and handed it off to him. Somehow, for such a small thing, the chain felt heavy in its box.

“I can’t keep it. I mean, he gave it to me to try and get me to forgive him.” She glared up at Lucifer. “Who would have given him an idea like that?”

He laughed again and took the jewelry box from her. “Assuredly _not from me._ If Mikey had asked my advice, I’d have encouraged him for something shinier and far more costly.”

She cursed lightly under her breath in Spanish and, okay, smirked a little when her Lucifer answered her back fluently and added a few curses of his own. Yup, should have known right away when Michael blanked on the Spanish that he was a flat out impersonator.

Lucifer seemed to speak a bit of _everything_. Sometimes the dude was better than the interpreters on call.

“Anyway, I will not be _sticking anything up there_ , you ass.”  
  


“I am rather saucy when I want to be, Miss Lopez.” He sobered at that and frowned down at her. “It will break his heart to have this given back to him.”

“I can’t keep it though. We aren’t even…I don’t think we even really officially dated, and he can probably get his money back.”

“Oh, he has a card on my account. Miss Lopez, not to be immodest---”  
  


“That’s new.”

“Anyhoo, you minx, not to be too grandiose, but I wouldn’t notice a purchase that miniscule on my bill regardless. Do keep it. If you two crazy kids are able to come to an accord, you’ll thank me later.”

She shook her head. “He was so hurt. Michael probably hates me!”

Lucifer took the box and considered that. “Michael has a lot of pride. They say that’s my sin, and it is, but we share more than our amazing looks in common, darling. I’ll take this to alleviate your guilt but do think about things. I’ll talk to Mikey. Perhaps I can get him to start taking your texts.”

“Okay,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to keep anything under the wrong reasons. It’s hard.”

Lucifer nodded. “That I can attest to. I feel like it’s taken forever to get where I am with the Detective. For what it’s worth, although I come from a very stubborn lot, I think if you and Mikey kept at it, it would be good for both of you. If you need any nudges or matchmaking help from yours truly, Miss Lopez, you only need ask.”

She sighed and hugged him. It was not the same as with Michael. If possible, his twin was even more stiff when hugged, more reticent. After a few years plus of working on him, Lucifer actually hugged her back. See progress!

“Just let him know I miss him, and I did _not_ mean to hurt his feelings, at all.”

“I believe that. No one is kinder than you.” Lucifer said, stepping back. “You have the brightest of souls.”

She grinned, thinking of how much she’d missed him over the last months. “Right back at ya buddy!”

**

Michael had moved to his own apartment finally. Granted, it was only the floor below Samael’s penthouse. But it had finally been decorated to Samael’s specifications. The Sword of God wasn’t sure the Devil’s design taste fit him at all. At least there wasn’t a piano or two in it. There was, of course, a bar, though most of the room was decorated in white. It reminded him quite a bit of the pristine, clean lines and overall white and chrome of yuppy apartments in New York back in the 80s when he’d been in a brokerage there. But, then again, his own ideas would have been taupe inspired.

He'd been told it was very soothing.

Still, his brother had managed to embellish with some of his own preferred touches. The bar was one of them, but so was the ceiling polished to a high shine, so white and glowing that if Michael looked up, he could see himself in the reflection. He had no idea why that would be desirable. The one thing he’d been very specific about with his twin was to have as few mirrors as possible in his home. He supposed Sam hadn’t understood the reflective surfaces in general applied to shiny ceilings too. However, Sam had listened at least a little, his bathroom was spacious with a shower that had more dials and knobs than Michael knew what to do with. But it had one mirror only, just enough so he could at least have a guess if a brush had tamed his curls that morning or not.

Honestly, the truth was that it rarely did.

He had nowhere to go outside of his twin’s apartment, his older brother’s home, or therapy sessions, so no one minded. Scratch that. Non one _important_ minded. Samael was always ranting about how somehow because _he_ chose to have regular hair and not use product it reflected badly on Sam, himself. As if no one had ever noticed before that Sam’s hair was not naturally straight and why-ever was Sam so vain?

To be fair, underneath it all and the glamour apparently Sam couldn’t _quite_ set up to specifications, Michael knew his brother was perhaps more damaged than even he was. That there lay the charred skin and the demonic face. Maybe it explained Sam’s predilection for perfection and exacting aesthetic details.

Michael wasn’t sure.

But for him, there was no hiding the arm that hung wrong, the right side that tended to drag late in the day or the wings. No, could never hide them. So, he preferred seeing them as little as possible.

Michael was lying propped up in bed. He’d seen no reason to have a king, so it was the next size down and silk sheets---really Brother---were not his style either. He’d fought hard for the modest cotton ones, the ones he found hilarious because they were actually made to look like spreadsheets. See, spreadsheet sheets!

And Samael hadn’t found the joke funny. As if the Adversary were the expert on all things hilarious.

But he had his own identity, even if he wasn’t sure exactly all that entailed yet, and he wasn’t just Sam’s twin, the tag-along, the _other_. And he was going to figure out more of his own style and make sure the apartment showed that too. But, for now, the spreadsheets (still a clever name) were the first bit of him in the place. And he was as comfortable as he could be.

  
It was a sliding scale considering that Sam and his Miracle were upstairs. He didn’t mind that, much, and he hardly begrudged Sam Chloe Decker. Sam’s miracle and Michael had actually worked well as investigative partners, at least they’d both been methodical and organized with each other. But as friends or lovers, they were like oil and water. However, Samael either had been ripped off with his sound proofing or his miracle was gifted with inhuman lungs or _both_ because Michael could hear his brother and his girlfriend enthusiastically going at it like bunnies most of the night on weekends. Oh, and every other Wednesday when apparently the dullard had Trixie too.

Right now, Chloe had just arrived. But soon, they’d be very amorous and very loud, and another reminder that for all his own sorrows, Sam was still way better adjusted to human life than he was.

Michael’s wings were out.

Michael loathed them, but he’d kept them in for over three days, and they’d hurt so badly, spasmed so much, that he’d had no way to suppress them. It happened every time. Eventually, whether he wanted it or not, his wings would spring forth.

To mock him with their ugliness.

Honestly, the left one with its bones that had grown back wrong always ached. The right one didn’t hurt as badly but it hung too low. Together, what a mess they made. Lying in this sad sack state, well, Michael didn’t expect to have a knock at his door. Since he’d only been in his apartment a few days, and since no one else even knew about it, Michael deduced his visitor was Sam.

Odd.

His twin never liked to waste time with Chloe. Understandable. Even with Duma on the Infernal throne, how long could Samael possibly have with her? Forty mortal years? Fifty? Even at sixty, it was nothing compared to their endless existence.

So, yes, the fact that Sam and Chloe Decker were so _enthusiastic, vocal, and persistent_ didn’t shock him.

Maybe made him a little jealous.

Or, okay, _a lot_ jealous.

Michael sighed and pulled himself from bed. He ached too badly to set his wings back away. They wouldn’t feel better until the morning, at least, and so out they’d hang. Great, like he wanted his twin, who sometimes sported the perfect, gleaming white wings to see his broken ones. Of course, sometimes Sam’s were even _worse_ , but they’d seemed better lately, now that he was back in Chloe’s good graces.

He opened the door and frowned back at his brother, who was still dressed in his three-piece suit and the cufflinks and everything else. Obviously, Chloe really must have just arrived above.

“Sam? Can this wait till tomorrow?” He sighed, and his right wing shuddered, but his left hung dead like an anchor. “I’m not decent currently.”

Samael frowned. “You can fold them away if you’re embarrassed. I…it’s my fault after all, I won’t make a show over them. In fact, I’m so very sorry.”

Michael rolled his eyes and stepped back, letting his twin sashay past him. “I don’t know if I am. Father said to do it, and I did.”

“Yes, how convenient to just follow orders, but I refuse to relitigate that tonight. I feel it’s best if Linda is present for such an event. Also possibly Amenadiel to hold us back, should fisticuffs arise.”

Michael sighed again. “I don’t want to get into it either. I just want to relax and have a good night.”

“Then put those away if they’re a point of contention. Chop-chop,” his brother said, waving his hands toward him.

Michael looked down at the floor, which he’d also won on and was carpeted and _not_ reflective. “I can’t.”

  
“I’ve seen you with them away plenty of times. Don’t be daft.”

“I can’t when they ache like this. There are spasms.” He focused on the carpet like it was the most interesting fucking thing in the world. “I’ll be able to get it to calm down by morning. They’re hardly cooperative fucking things, are they?”

He hazarded a glance up, just in time to see his brother turn away and take a while pouring himself a scotch from Michael’s bar. Good, Sam always did need to keep his hands busy, didn’t he?

Michael stood, went over to one of the high stools, and sat there. It was simpler than an armchair for his wings currently, more than enough space. “You’re right; we can’t talk about that without Linda around or perhaps ever.”

“Would that the Demiurge had been a united force these many centuries. How different things might have been.”

Michael was overwhelmed by such a sentiment that sounded genuine but how could he be sure. Instead, he decided to plough on and ignore. Instead, the Sword of God and pointed behind the bar. “Just a soda for me, of course.”

Samael rolled his eyes. “Yes, a well-stocked bar with the best top shelf in the city, and you prefer cola. How pedestrian.”

“I can’t get drunk, and it’s a waste.”

“I have the Detective twenty feet above my head and intend to get well and truly pissed, Brother.”

“Great, so why are you here? In _my_ apartment.”

“That I pay for,” Sam added before handing him his drink and sipping his own Scotch. “Besides, I came because you’ve left a dear friend of mine quite in the lurch, _twin_.”

“Ella and I had a fight. I want to talk about that less than my wings, I promise you that, Samael.”

Same shrugged and drained his drink, then poured a second. “Yes, but Miss Lopez is quite shattered. She’s not concentrating at work, and I’ve never known her to look so glum, even that year she wasn’t a practicing Catholic. She looked happier than this afternoon. Ella told me to tell you that she was sorry, she didn’t mean it that way, and that she just wanted to talk to you to make amends.”

Michael stiffened although only in his upper posture. And wasn’t that the problem? It wasn’t that he couldn’t do anything, and it wasn’t even that he hadn’t reacted to Ella in the past. Sometimes he even had vivid dreams about her, even now. However, what if he tried and couldn’t make her happy? What if being half-dead on one side was a problem?

She was beautiful and funny and vivacious, and she deserved far better than him.

Besides, she’d made it quite clear what her feelings on the inexperienced were. And he was blatantly that.

“I don’t think I can get past what she said.”

“Well, I confess I’m at a bit of a disadvantage as Miss Lopez was concerned about your privacy, and she refrained from explaining more. I don’t know what any of this is about, but I know her well, and she’d never be deliberately cruel to anyone. You had to have misunderstood her.”

Michael tried to sip his drink, but set it back down, something about it was bitter even if it was fresh from the can. “Does it even matter, Sam? Look at her, she’s perfect and lovely and athletic and a million other things.” He arched his wings as best as he could. They barely moved. He had to put so much effort into using them, and if he hadn’t been desperate to avoid Chloe Decker altogether, he’d not been able to summon the strength to get them to drag him a few blocks away. “Do I look like a match for her or for her experience?”

And he’d said too much.

Because his twin had _always_ been a master of Desire as he had been of Control, and Sam knew what others wanted. Even if their powers didn’t technically work on each other, his twin understood now what Michael had so badly been trying _not_ to say.

“Yes, well, Amenadiel caught on rather quickly and made a Nephilim. It’s not hard to adjust to. I’m sure you can be a rather enthusiastic study.”

Michael shrugged his shoulder and managed after long, agonizing moments to get his arm to the bar’s top. It lay half-crumpled like always. “I don’t think enthusiasm fixes some things. And I just…”

“Don’t be silly. I’m sure Mazikeen would go a few rounds with you. She was my first in Hell and long before Eve. Come to think of it, she was Amenadiel’s first.” Samael brightened at such a twisted set of thoughts. Then, he reached out and grabbed Michael’s good shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. “Honestly, Maze will find a virginal angelic hat trick quite the coup for her. And you’re not a bad looking bloke. I’m the more handsome brother of course---”

Michael pulled away. “I don’t want _practice_. I just…Ella is out of my league, clearly. Perhaps any functional mortal is far above a broken angel.”

Samael considered that and it was so fast that even Michael’s eyes barely perceived the change. But where his brother---his mirror image---had stood was now the Devil in every sense of the word with scarred face, flaming eyes, and the yellowed teeth. “And the Detective is not out of mine?”

Michael shook his head. “It’s different for you. She’s a miracle. She was literally _made for you_. Of course, she’s not going to turn away in disgust.”

“You didn’t take meticulous notes on her trip to Rome while you were spying on me, did you, Brother?”

“I know she traveled there. I assumed a vacation after Cain was killed.” See, and he could be polite too, could dodge around the fact that Samael had broken that greatest of Celestial laws---because of course he had---and killed a human. With no punishments there either.

“Well,” his twin said, pouring a third shot and downing it. “She saw this face, and it terrified her. Then, she made a deal with a priest in Rome to exorcise me. It didn’t work, and she regretted it…basically stopped at the last minute, but it has not been an easy road nor a guarantee. You should know, being one of the bumps along the way and all, Mikey.”

Michael looked down at the counter at that but only for a moment. “I am sorry.”

“And we could spend a millennium apologizing to each other, but we don’t have to. I don’t relish doing that.”

“Neither do I.”

His brother smiled wryly at him. “Again, we save that for later, for the couch with Linda.”

“You didn’t hear what she said and---”

“I assure you, you must have been wrong about, Miss Lopez. She’s still the kindest person I’ve ever met, and, annoyingly, the best hugger. She would never want to spite you over something you couldn’t control. She wouldn’t throw such things in your face, either. Just return her calls, please. She’s quite miserable for some bloody reason without you. I can’t account for the girl’s poor taste, but she likes you, Mikey. Do her and yourself a favor and give her a ring at least.”

“I’ll think about it. Is that all?”

Sam nodded and stood a bit straighter. “Yes, quite.” Although before he left, his brother did seem to hesitate over his suit coat pocket. “There’s nothing that can’t wait till later. Call her, Brother. Chloe and I took _years_ to reconcile things between us, to be good as a couple. I’d hate after everything for you and Miss Lopez to be denied at least a chance for happiness.”

“Would you?” Michael asked, unsure after everything where he and Samael stood with each other.

His brother started to the door. “I would. You’re still my brother. I know a million horrible things have happened between us, but, honestly Mi, if I can forgive Amenadiel of all sticks-in-the-mud, I can certainly forgive you. I suppose the real question is if you’ll ever do the same not just for me but for yourself.”

“I don’t have anything I’m holding against myself.”

Sam sighed before reaching the doorknob. “Aren’t you?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Ella was into her fourth shot of Tequila after, okay, a couple chocolate martinis, and she was finally starting to feel the buzz or maybe more than just feel it. She was pretty head spinny by now. To be fair, after her year of being estranged from the Big Guy, Ella had a better tolerance than she’d ever had even sneaking around doing questionable things with her brothers in Detroit as a teen. So, instead of being passed out by now, she was just warm.

Really warm.

But still pretty _enojoda_. Or more pissed beyond pissed was more accurate.

It was the weekend, and after a long work week and even longer time being home and not sleeping because of a certain, annoying guy, Ella just wanted to enjoy her Saturday. But she couldn’t even do that because said certain, annoying guy had called her. _Twice_. She’d gotten one last night about 11 p.m. and she had Michael’s number saved to her cell, so she knew it was him, but when she’d answered the call, there had been nothing on the other end. She’d heard slight breathing and not in a creepy, horror movie way, though it had sounded a bit labored like he’d been hurt.

Even though Ella had begged, Michael hadn’t said anything.

The next morning after fretting and tossing and turning until 4 a.m. When she’d woken up around one on Saturday, her phone had shown a missed call from Michael from that morning that she had to have slept through.

Nothing else though, not even a voicemail.

So, like a true masochist, she’d gotten on a cute dress---this fun blue sparkly number she totally would have worn out on a date with certain annoying twin brothers of her friends who should remain nameless if he’d, _you know_ , ask her out---and gone to _Lux_. Partly because, Ella was at least still sober enough to be honest with herself and hope Michael would pass by. That was unlikely. The club was hardly his style, mostly because it centered around drinking, which he didn’t seem to do much of now that he wasn’t pretending to be Lucifer, and dancing, which he clearly felt awkward about. Still, Ella hoped he might show up so they could hash things out in person instead of weird-ass phone tag. Oh, and also, she still had an open, unlimited tab, and she was drinking enough tonight that she would have put a dint in her weekly budget otherwise.

_Lux’s_ drinks were good, but Lucifer might actually be the Devil for charging twenty-five dollars for a martini. Now that was _evil_.

So far, no dice.

She hadn’t even seen Lucifer yet, but it wasn’t quite late enough for him to come out and headline for a set either. So all Ella had was kind of spinning room, a lime she was still sucking on, and a basket of already finished cheese sticks. This was the dumbest idea. Of course, Michael wasn’t going to be here, and it wasn’t like she’d just go to the penthouse and barge in. That would be weird.

  
And awkward.

And she’d look like a stalker just going into Michael’s home (well technically Lucifer’s and he’d so let her) to bless Mike out for the calls that went nowhere.

So, one Tequila, two Tequila, three Tequila…not-quite-floor-yet it was.

However, she was so blitzed that by the time someone did sit down beside her, Ella couldn’t quite recognize who it was. With as pissed and drunk as she was, Ella just launched into her rant. “You are such an asshole, Michael. After all my voicemails and texts and trying to get you to understand that I don’t care if you’re a freaking virgin. Like so what? I went to Catholic school. I didn’t have sex till college! It happens. Anyway, you won’t answer but then you’ll like dial me at seven a.m. and not leave a message as if you were confused that caller I.D. was a thing. So, like this,” she said gesturing to herself and the way her boobs, modest as they were, were about to pop out of her micro dress. “this is so not ever gonna be yours! Ha! You missed out.”

Soft brown eyes twinkled with amusement beside her. “Well, Miss Lopez, if that’s your version of an apology for my twin, it might need a spot of work.”

She blinked. It was only then that her slightly cloudy brain took in first what she’d said, including basically shouting the V-word across the bar. Then, as some of her anger disappeared, and, okay, she started sipping a water that Patrick had pushed across the bar to her, Ella sobered up a little. Taking in the three-piece, jade suit, it was obvious even without the accent, that she’d unleashed her fury on the wrong twin.

Oops.

She set her head on the bar’s surface and just barely stopped herself from banging her head on the wood. “I didn’t…don’t tell Michael I told you that part. He’s really sensitive about it, and I wouldn’t normally.”

A large, soft hand was on her back “Miss Lopez, I know you didn’t, although I must say your approach to an apology could be improved.”

She lifted her head enough to sigh. “It was not my smoothest move, no.”

“Not quite,” Lucifer offered. “However, don’t worry. We’re siblings, of course I knew. Like Amenadiel, until relatively recently, my twin was quite loyal to Father, and our home is just us siblings---myriad as we are---and very religious, true.”

“See _cult_.”

“It is hardly a cult,” Lucifer replied. “Father, alas, is not some two-bit charlatan. He has more authority than that.”

“I really hate your dad,” she said, finally sitting up and sipping more on her water.

“Surely not as much as I do or, I suspect, Mikey does now that he’s left the fold. However, there was not an opportunity for certain extracurricular activities and, had there been, it was assuredly _discouraged_.”

“So, you became a manwhore as a way to act out?” Ella said, smirking at her deduction. It figured. As far as rebellion went, going with sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll seemed standard. She had a few friends at her Catholic, all girls high school (which had sucked by the way) who had gone that route after graduation. “That’s pretty understandable.”

“I found out that with more freedom, I quite honestly enjoyed the act, Miss Lopez.” Lucifer shrugged and beckoned to his bar tender. Ella was impressed at the speed with which Patrick got the Scotch out to his boss. Smart dude. “I do not think it has been the same for Amenadiel. I think he genuinely is in love with Linda even if they seem staunchly determined to merely co-parent. He hardly became an orgy host after leaving home.” Lucifer let out a long, incredulous breath as he stared at the amber liquid in his glass. “I can honestly confess that I’m a one-woman Devil now. Eve had no such compunctions, but I understand the Detective is different, and I’d do anything to please her. I am only beginning to learn about my twin as he is now, and not before I Rebelled and last saw him.”  
  


“You mean back when you were both like teenagers or whatever?”

“I was never a child, Miss Lopez. Angels only come fully grown, fun fact.”

She rolled her eyes at Lucifer’s walls and his method acting. It hurt her for him that he just couldn’t be as honest as his siblings were. She’d still like him even without the Devil schtick, and Ella bet most of the precinct would too. But time and kindness, it was the best she could offer her friend to give him room to reveal himself to her someday as well.

“But you’d guess what about Michael?”

“That he would take anything amorous very seriously. That he fancies you because he thinks you’re quite worth it, and now he’s become squirrely because he most assuredly thinks he _isn’t_. You’re very fetching, Miss Lopez. I can appreciate the attraction, even if you’ve almost always felt sisterly to me.” Lucifer gave a wry twist of his lips at that. “Almost like it was a bit of destiny pushing us together as L.A. transplants. However, I spoke with Michael yesterday evening, and I suppose my pushing him was a bit of the reason he at least rang you but lacked the courage to speak. To put it shortly---”

“Oh, you can do that?”

Lucifer bumped her shoulder. “I’ve had demons flayed for less defiance; do tread lightly, darling.”

“Sure, whatever, dude,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“However,” Lucifer continued. “I think that Michael is afraid that you are out of his league. He’s resigned himself to thinking that you could do far better, and this is a fluke on your behalf.”

“I didn’t say that. At all. I was just surprised.” She swallowed her water and tried to figure out the best way to say the next part. “If I’m…dude, if we went that far and I’m his _first_ , I just don’t want to mess it up or let him down. It would feel awful if Michael decided sex wasn’t that great,” she said, making sure her voice was low this time for such delicate matters. In truth, she’d never met a guy with better hearing than Lucifer. One of those _him_ things that was so odd. “I’d be like a huge disappointment if I did it wrong.”

Lucifer chuckled. “I’m certain you can’t do it wrong, Miss Lopez. Eve had mentioned you were a good kisser.”

“Our group might be a little too close, buddy.”

“Maybe, but if this is a case of _both_ of you feeling underconfident, then you have an easy solution because I suspect neither thing is actually true. You’ve had beaus and ladies in the past, of course, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but not a lot of long-term people. My biggest relationship kind of imploded.” _Possibly because I’m crazy_. “But I’ve dated and, okay, I was here _a lot_ last year when I was struggling with the Big Guy. I didn’t get complaints.”

“See,” Lucifer said, finishing his drink and gesturing for another. “then I’m half right. I understand Mikey has his own issues, but I doubt anyone who looks like me could be but so terrible in bed, weak right side or not.”

“That’s so modest there.”

  
“I’m honest. I get great reviews of course. In fact, when I still had my Roosters of Unusual Size subforum---”

“Dude, no.”

“Okay, I was merely saying that I think these problems are in your heads, and that if you were able to talk them out, then you’d find you’re both nervous and can deal with such things together.”

“ _Quízas_ ,” she granted. “But we’re still playing phone tag or more like _he_ won’t answer his phone for real tag. I don’t know how to reach him.”

Lucifer considered that as he started in on his second drink. “You clearly thought that spicy little number would help. Not a terribly wrong instinct, although while I feel red would have highlighted your coloring better, that cobalt is fetching too.”

She giggled at that. Being bros with Lucifer ran the gamut from sex story swapping to him offering fashion advice in such detail she’d never even considered it before or, keeping it 100, had to check Youtube beauty bloggers afterwards to even have a hope of understanding his insider terms.

  
“I’ll consider that for next time,” she said, then sighed. “I might not get a next time. I don’t know how to reach your brother.”

Lucifer arched an eyebrow at her. “May I ask how he got _your attention_? You were rather upset after movie night imploded, and now you’ve gone to clearly pining for the git. So, what turned those tables?”

She traced the cool glass of her water before her with her forefinger. “Silly things, this cheesy angle with him redoing some romcom stuff.”

“Oh my, certainly Mikey has more taste than that.”

“It was cute! He did a bit of _Love Actually_ and some _Say Anything_.” Off Lucifer’s blank look, she added. “You know, the boombox and standing outside at night?”

“No, can’t say as I’ve ever seen that one. I mostly prefer a bit more raunch and/or car chases in my cinema, darling.”

“Okay, but it was sweet!”

Lucifer considered that. “Who would have known my twin had a soft, gooey center? Well, then, Miss Lopez, I was going to perform my set in a few, but I’ve a question for you.”  
  


“Shoot,” she said. “What you got, bro?”

“If you have a favorite romantic comedy moment, then please take the stage in my place. I’ll ensure my brother is here to watch. I promise.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Dude, I don’t know if I could!”

“I’ve seen you in Vegas, Miss Lopez, you’re talented enough to take the stage. Linda is always on about actions meaning things. If you want to show you’re still very much interested, then take that bull by the horns, as it were,” he replied, winking at her. “What else have you got to lose?”

“Well, I might end up sleeping through the night for once if he and I at least what we’re doing. Even if Michael shoots me down, it’s a final answer. Ugh, I hope the Big Guy is on my side.”

Lucifer guffawed at that. “I wonder that myself sometimes, Miss Lopez.”

She nodded. “I just…you’ll get him down here?”

Lucifer slipped easily off the stool because they weren’t too freaking tall _for him_ and gave her a courtly bow. “You have my word that I will, and you know I’m a Devil of my word, don’t you?”

She swallowed nervously at that. Maybe she’d need a fifth shot of Tequila after all if she was really going to sing for _Lux_ and Michael. Waving to Patrick, she ordered it. “Okay, Luce, you’re on.”  
  



	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Michael was bored.

He was admitting that to himself as he forwarded from channel to channel on cable and then slipped through a variety of streaming services. Usually, when he couldn’t decide what to watch, he’d look at a police procedural. There were endless reruns for that. After all, he had _Bones_ , which he’d always liked and the different _Law and Orders_. But those were hard to focus on now because anything that could verge on police precincts or forensics reminded him of Ella, and that hurt.

So, he gave up flipping through channels and turned on the stereo, a bit of jazz coming through his speakers. Even though his apartment was over a dozen stories above _Lux_ , he could still hear bits of the base seeping through the floors. People below having fun, _dancing_ , which he couldn’t fathom doing and, frankly, would never be able to do with any real fluency or ease…and the collection of them paying court to his brother, the headliner.

It rankled a little.

He was working on his jealousy issues. It helped, as awful as it sounded, to realize what full horrors had befallen Samael and to understand that some angels didn’t exactly have it greener on the other side. Still, he wished he had a better way to kill time this late on a Saturday so he wasn’t as tempted to grab his phone and dial for Ella.

Michael had tried, and he hadn’t been able to say anything when the call dialed through.

What was there to say?

He was inexperienced and broken, and Ella was neither of those things. Maybe once she understood the frustration of a body that would not respond, but she’d had enough surgeries and grown past that as a child. He could never, _had never_ for longer than human history.

  
It was better to let it go, to accept there were some things his brothers would have that he was not meant for. A quiet life of contemplation but at least with a rediscovered bit of family, especially that little Nephilim, who he was growing quite fond of.

And then, as he tended to do, Samael burst through the door.

Michael glared at him. “I know one of your gifts involves picking locks ridiculously easily, and you’ve made it clear that you own the apartment so you can barge in whenever you want. I was just hoping you’d respect me enough not to.”

“Well, that’s certainly something to hope for,” Sam said.

“Yes, imagine me hoping that you’d understand boundaries someday, Sammy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Look, twin, put on whichever boring blazer you think will complement your look and do get downstairs.”

“Why?” Michael said standing and starting toward his bedroom. He had hopes that Sam wouldn’t follow him like that. Then again, Sam had never cared about any limitations before. Why start now? Michael could probably go to his bathroom and start urinating and still have Samael over his shoulder, prying per usual. But he had to try.

“Can’t you just leave well enough alone?”

Sam leaned against the bar and chuckled. “Would that I could, but you’re the one who came here to, let’s be charitable, and say ‘borrow’ my life. Now you say you’d like your own, but I would love for you to do more than staying in on a Saturday night. The two of us are many things, Brother, but we are not shoes.”

“I have no idea what weirdness you’re spouting this time, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Get your suit coat on, forget that fact that all you’ve got is a turtleneck and brown pants that are dull as dirt, and come downstairs and try and enjoy _something_. You might try long enough that you end up actually having fun. After all, you wanted to be _me_ , and what is more Lucifer Morningstar than enjoying _Lux_?”

Michael considered that. As annoying as it was for Sammy to emphasize again Michael’s mistakes---though to be fair to even Samael, they had been the mother of all mistakes---his twin wasn’t wrong. Rationally, Michael knew it would take a long time for his twin to truly trust him and to feel over it. However, as low as he felt, it was hard to have his failures and idiocy thrown in his face. Especially when he ached so much over Ella.

“Brother, please. I feel I ask you for fairly little,” Sam wheedled.  
  


“Well, you and Amenadiel do have conditions for me staying on earth at all.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “But you enjoy Linda, and you find working with her helpful regardless, don’t you?”

  
“Yes, and, alright, I wasn’t exactly doing anything up here anyway.”

“Translation: you were as bored as I suspected you were. Brilliant!” His brother said, clapping his hands with rehearsed aplomb and turning back to the door. “I have to get my set arranged and I’ll be playing probably by the time you come down, but at least brush your teeth and that mop on your head and come downstairs, will you?”

“I---”

“Have you anything else to do?”

Michael sighed and headed the rest of the way into his room to get his sport coat. He hated when Sam was right, but his twin was, and he was so bored. It was a pain to have his doubts plaguing him. So, for once, he’d just honor his twin’s request. But he would _not_ be making a habit of it. Father forbid that Samael forget that, even in this state, The Sword of God would fall under his younger brother’s sway.

After all, one of the Demiurge had the power of Control, and it was not Sammy.

**

When he got to the floor, Michael sat in a banquette that his brother had set aside for him. He’d used it a couple of times before realizing that _Lux_ wasn’t his thing. Trying to flirt with women at the bar overwhelmed him, and he had no interest in anyone not Ella anyway. The dancing was beyond him, and, overall, it was loud and crowded and so very sweaty. What his brother found to love in such a place, Michael would never know.

But he was curious when he came down the stairs to see a spotlight on a petite singer in a sparkling blue dress that hugged her body tightly and barely came down to mid-thigh length. How odd. Sam had sworn he was prepping the set. Michael got the impression that occasionally there were other performers besides his twin. But it wasn’t the norm. However, the spotlight now was clearly hovering over someone new, and perhaps his brother would be accompanying her. Curious, Michael leaned back in his seat and sipped his soda.

For once, the show at _Lux_ might actually interest him.

At least he was rabidly curious until the singer, who’d had her back to him until now started to turn around and start the song a capella. Michael’s heart stuttered and he sat up higher in his seat. It was Ella. His Ella, well, not his but he’d certainly not been expecting this.

She had a lovely voice, not that he’d been aware of it before or she’d mentioned singing along with her dancing as a kid.

But she was singing now although the focus wasn’t really on the audience around her so much as directly on his banquette and on him. Part of Michael wanted to go because everything was too complicated and confused between them, but most of him had missed her this past week, and hated how they’d left it, even if she’d been the one to hurt him this go around.

So, deciding to give her at least a small chance, he sat forward and listened as her alto wafted through the lounge:

_You're just too good to be true_ _  
Can't take my eyes off of you  
You'd be like Heaven to touch  
I wanna hold you so much  
At long last, love has arrived  
And I thank God I'm alive  
You're just too good to be true  
Can't take my eyes off of you_

The song he recognized. _Frankie Vallie_. It had been an oldie by the time he’d gotten to earth but he liked his fair bit of standards and older pieces, so he’d heard it more than once. It mildly amused him in the most ironic and bitterest of senses to think about anyone thanking his father at all. Then again, Ella was still quite the believer, and like Samael, he didn’t begrudge her that. After all, Father was supposed to love humans better after all.

Maybe when her time came and she passed to the Silver City, she’d receive better consideration from Dad than he ever had. Michael certainly hoped so.

She was close to the mic, almost caressing it with her soft, haunting words. Her dark hair fell in waves to her shoulders and her eyes were set off even more by the smokey edges of her eyeshadow. She was so very echanting and, as always, he was reminded how out of his league Ella was.

Then, the song hit the chorus and a second spotlight came up over his brother’s piano as his twin---who was not actually singing and how hard was it for Samael to not be lead spotlight for even one number---started to accompany Ella in bombastic fashion. As the piano went quite forte, Ella pulled the mic from its stand and started singing her way through the crowd.

_I love you, baby_ _  
And if it's quite alright  
I need you, baby  
To warm the lonely night…_

His gloomy mood from earlier was lifting and he couldn’t help but be swept away with Ella’s confidence and her strength as she was clearly in her element. Her dress was, perhaps, too tight to dance in formally, but she was definitely shimmying through the crowd with lithe steps. Everywhere she went, she would have been the center of attention, even without the light on her. But as she was there, working the crowd, she shone so brightly, as if she were the one who were divine.

Ella made her way through the crowd, the spotlight following her, until Michael finally realized she was headed for his banquette. He felt an icy grip of panic. The last thing he wanted was extra attention on him, even as captivating as Ella’s performance was. Stumbling to his feet, he almost tripped right then and there, but his right side was rested and mostly cooperating, save the arch of his shoulder and the way his right arm always _hung wrong_ , and Michael was able to still stay fluid with his movements.

Michael regarded Ella with wide, scared eyes. But she seemed to be too into her routine and scanning the crowd to quite realize it. Maybe it was because she was hitting the biggest, most thunderous part of the chorus. Michael wasn’t sure.

He turned and tried to dodge away from her, but Ella was already there, and her spotlight was now _his_ too as she belted out:

_Now that I've found you, stay_ _  
And let me love you, baby  
Let me love you._

She was there then, and while Sam was still playing the bars to the bridge, Michael couldn’t think. Ella was staring up at him with such wide, brown eyes, and she’d set her mic away to her side so that no one else at _Lux_ could overhear their conversation.

“Michael,” she said, her eyes so innocent, so beguiling. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t say it right. Can we talk after this?” She swayed a little on her heels and that paired with the hint of Tequila on her breath, made him wonder if she was a little less than sober. That and the whole night club act. “I…please?”

Michael wanted to say yes, and if he’d been smart enough to keep his eyes focused on her and not stare up in his anxiety to see a couple hundred sets of eyes trained on him, to feel the heat of the spotlight on him, and to feel so many in the crowd regarding him as if he were a performer too. No, not a performer. He could catch it in the crowd now that he saw: the men scoffing, the women whispering in each other’s ears and laughing, a few double takes between his twin and him. Oh, yes, now that was almost a familiar look.

That double take of finding him _the lacking one_.

He couldn’t.

Couldn’t have this conversation with Ella, not as a centerpiece in the crowd.

“Ella, I can’t but not like this. Why would you spring all this on me, like this?” He asked.

Her face crumpled, her eyes wider even still with pain and uncertainty. “I don’t understand.”

“Why would you put me out here front and center? I can’t.” He looked between her, the crowd, and Samael, and bolted.

  
Well, as best as he could for the elevator. He walked briskly even if he had a leg that was slowing just a little, probably more psychosomatically from the crowd pressure than actually tired and aching. But so many eyes… _all on him_ …all seeing his arm dead at his side. Seeing how he was just broken.

How could Ella even think being swept up in the center of _Lux_ would be something he’d want?

Why would she think that?

He didn’t know but as he pressed the elevator button for his floor, it couldn’t open fast enough. When the doors finally opened, he bolted inside and didn’t breathe normally until the car was halfway to his floor.

It was all just too painful.

**

The next day, Michael spent it out and about. He didn’t go to Linda and Amenadiel’s, but he couldn’t stand to be in _Lux_ either, in case Sam invited himself into Michael’s apartment. He walked around mostly. After he’d taken an Uber to one of Charlie’s preferred parks, Michael just ambled. He needed to think, and he needed to do it somewhere that was at least neutral territory. He had no true space of his own, not yet. At least he was off of Samael’s couch, but he was still under Samael’s auspices and generosity. One day, eventually, he’d have to take his savings and find a place of his own as well as a job, but he was so drained yet stunned from last night. Usually, staying with Sam didn’t bother him, but he couldn’t take anymore ambushes.

Not today.

But it meant by the time he slumped home, his right side was worn down and his wings ached to be released. As soon as he was home in his apartment and had the door shut behind him, Michael let his wings out. It ground and wrenched against him, the bones of his left-wing jutting and breaking out at odd angles like always, but eventually, both wings were out. Tired and worn, he laid belly down on his sofa and put on a _Bones_ marathon anyway, even if Angela had a few very superficial bits that resembled Ella and that pained him all over again. He was almost half asleep, barely paying attention to whichever episode he was on when he heard it.

A prayer.

He so rarely focused on them, and if he wasn’t half asleep, Michael wouldn’t have let the sounds of prayers filter into his mind.

But he was all of those things, and it was almost automatic to pick up Ella’s errant thoughts. They’d been directed at him after all:

_St. Michael, Mother Mary, Big Guy…anyone, you know. I’ve messed so much up. I just…I need to be able to concentrate. We have this case, and it’s so ugly, and there might be a serial killer, and I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to do anything right now. I can’t concentrate and I just want to help these college students…help me, please._

He sat up instantly. Samael hadn’t mentioned a case like that, so maybe it was the first day they’d realized at the precinct they had a serial killer. You needed three cases that were alike too, didn’t you? And poor Ella was trying to figure everything else out with her mind reeling.

All because of him.

He couldn’t do that to her. She’d tried to make amends with him, with a stunt no less audacious than his own, and he’d let his pride and his fear over how everyone _else_ saw him get in the way. He at least owed her a way to give her closure, to allow her to concentrate on her work. Everything she did was so crucial…so important, and he owed her better than making her worry. He owed Los Angeles better, since the forensic scientist was amazing, and her work saved people.

He understood duty. He understood doing the best and the Utilitarian good. Ella needed to be able to do her best work, and Michael had to talk to her to do that. His pride didn’t matter or his feelings, just hers in this.

Sitting up, Michael forced his wings away, screaming loudly as bone grinded on bone. To force his left one away when his body was this tired and the spasms this severe cost him, but he gladly bore it. Because he owed Ella a lot, and for a start, he was going to help by answering her prayers.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Michael limped into the precinct at close to midnight. He knew Ella was still there because he could hear her prayers as she worked over her research. Whatever the team was seeing for this case---now this series of cases---was more than even Ella usually saw. Which had to be saying a lot.

As he made his way down the stairs, even if his left side was wracked by spasms periodically, Michael was again aware of the wide eyes on him. It seemed every uniformed police officer was gaping at him. A few even craned their necks down the stairs and to the corner of the precinct where Chloe Decker’s desk was. His twin was pacing back and forth and talking animatedly with the dullard and Chloe. Obviously, the uniformed officers and a few of the detectives had no idea about Samael having a twin.

It had worked, for a time at least, to Michael’s advantage. Apparently, no one had mentioned since that Sam had an identical brother (well _mostly_ identical) staying with him. He brushed past them and dodged a few wide-eyed cops so young he wasn’t even sure how they qualified to be officers yet (seriously how old did a human have to be to start with the LAPD) who were trying to ask the idiotic question of “Are you Lucifer’s brother?”

Well, who the Hell else would he be?

By the time he got to Chloe Decker’s desk, his right leg was dragging pretty badly, and he was panting a little. Michael would have preferred to stay standing upright, but even he had to lean against the glass wall that lined the area near Chloe’s cubicle. Support was crucial right now.

Samael was the first to notice him. “Brother, are you alright?”

Chloe Decker regarded him solemnly. “Is anything really wrong?”

Michael shook his head. He knew that was code for Celestial or Infernal, and that considering he’d never come to the station as _himself_ , it would be a logical leap for both his brother and his miracle. “No, everything’s fine and normal at home, and it’s definitely fine with Linda and Amenadiel as far as I know. I had a photo of Charlie texted to me a bit before dinner.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes at him afterwards. “Then why are you here?”

He sighed and was about to explain when the dullard came marching out of his office at much the same time that Ella hurried out of her office with her goggles still on. It was the dullard who reacted first.

Daniel Espinoza stopped in his tracks and dropped the files he’d been carrying as he blanched between Samael and himself. “What the fuck? There are two of them?”

Michael rolled his eyes and leaned more against the divider to keep his weight up. His twin was showier because _of course_ he was. Sammy straightened his lapels and glared down at the dullard.

“Of course, Douche, didn’t you know? When Father created someone this perfect, he had to do it twice. Celebrated a great formula with a repeat engagement, as it were.”

Michael sighed. “We’re twins. Surprise.”

Daniel looked between them both. “You’re not British.”

  
Michael laughed; it was one of the funnier things he’d heard lately. “No, I’m not but trade secret neither is Sammy.”

The dullard volleyed back to Sam as if he were trapped in a weird tennis match. “‘Sammy?’ And they’re twins and what even is going on here?”

Chloe Decker shook her head at her ex-husband. “Dan, I promise there will be _Cliff’s Notes_ later.”

Ella finally seemed capable of speaking. In the beginning of their argument with the dullard, she’d been quiet and drawn up close to Chloe for support. But now, she was staring straight at him.

“What’s going on? Why are you here?” Ella asked.

She was more confused than accusatory, so Michael took this as a good sign.

“I…Sam texted me that the case was going poorly, that it was troubling all of you. I just wanted to come to make sure you were okay.” He eyed his twin and filled him in privately before Sam could shoot his mouth off instead.

_Lucifer, she prayed to St. Michael, just let it go with the text excuse, please._

His brother gave a brusque nod that put Michael at ease at least on that front. On the other hand, the douche was pacing and getting more red-faced and worked up. That couldn’t be a good sign, could it?

“I…it’s fine,” Ella said, even if she was still staring at him as if she didn’t quite believe he were there, as if he were a mirage that would disappear if she overthought it.

Michael offered her a small smile. “Sam said it was a grueling case, and I just wanted to be here if you needed a break or someone to offload any worries on.” He held up both hands…well…as best as he could with his right. “I didn’t even bring mochasplosions to bribe with, but if you need a food run, I’d be happy to do it.”

Samael winked at her and added a joke to try and ease the tension. “Of course, Mikey would be more than generous. After all, it’s my card he’ll be treating on. I supposed if he hurries that bakery off Monticello might be having a last call of sorts. They stay open later to cater to the drunk college kid crowd.”

He watched as Ella bit her lip, clearly considering her need for sugar to get through the night since drinking on the job was frowned upon. “That might be good.”

“Yeah, maybe you can pick up some _lemon squares_ ,” Chloe added, rolling her eyes at him. Detective Decker probably wouldn’t even like him---and Michael could only blame himself for that---but she was at least learning to tolerate him. It really was a good thing he’d had that idea about roping in Duma to help with Hell for a while. “Can you maybe get those?”

He nodded and then looked to the dullard. “Anything in particular you’d want, Daniel?”

The man stopped pacing but was still a disturbing shade of mauve. “Are you kidding me? There. Are. Two. Of. Them. This whole time?”

Samael sighed. “Of course not! I mean, yes, Michael’s always existed, but he’s not been in L.A. that long. I am singular, and it’s clear that my twin couldn’t hope to hold a candle to my stellar fashion sense or wonderful personality or---”

Even Chloe couldn’t resist from slapping Sam’s shoulder. “We get it, Lucifer. You’re the better twin. Sure, it’s fine, babe.”

Michael shrugged. He was probably outnumbered as far as fans went at the station. After all, he and Ella had been on rocky and very topsy turvy terms for a while. Still, he wasn’t one to acquiesce to his little brother. _Ever_. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Ella, despite everything, giggled a little at that. “Maybe we just have been going about this the wrong way.” She winked at Chloe. “Look, we just set it up one day at _Lux_ , huge event. You two, a mud pit, and like Foxy Boxing or whatever. Then, everyone could get something out of the twin smackdown.”

Michael felt his cheeks flush at such a joke. Samael, being Sam, just preened and stood even taller. “Why, Miss Lopez, it would still be a superfluous competition as I’m surely the best twin. However, if needs must and for the adoring public---”

Chloe shook her head and side stepped close enough to Sam to put a hand on his forearm. “No, we’re definitely not doing that.”

Michael frowned. “I think I’ll veto any mud pit antics as well, Ella.”

“I can always hope,” she said, smirking a little, but he could see the trembling in her hands too. He wasn’t sure what kind of M.O. their killer had, but it had to be rough. Ella was the type to go on about fly eggs to tell a better time of death in exacting and adorable detail. He’d heard that ramble himself. If she looked even vaguely queasy currently, that mean the case was rough. “I…they do a mean croissant and the mochasplosion this time wouldn’t be a bribe.”

Michael forced himself away from his resting partition and stood as tall as he could. “Great, I’d love to be useful.”

Daniel finally seemed to have found his tongue to do more than stutter. “Lucifer has a twin brother. This guy---” the dullard threw out his hand toward him. “…was he here first before Lucifer got back? I mean, I just though Lucifer was actually learning a lesson and being a little normal, doing paperwork for once. That _wasn’t_ you?”

His brother shook his head and tsked back at the dullard. “You should have known from the off, Daniel. I would never do paperwork, at least not without my own patented system. No, I am afraid Mikey was here for a bit, and he and I have almost worked my disapproval of such a ruse out.”

Chloe and Ella suddenly found their shoes fascinating, and Michael sighed, since he noticed the _almost_ part. Considering their sometimes fraught sessions with Linda, it was more than possible that they’d at least fall into fisticuffs a few more times over everything. Honestly, Michael couldn’t make promises on that himself.

Daniel turned to him and glared. “And I don’t even know you, man. You were what? Just pretending for a couple months?”

Michael’s eyes widened with how myopic the dullard could be, he was honestly surprised that Daniel Espinoza had noticed the quality change in “Lucifer’s” paperwork at all. “I…yes…I admit that it was a bad idea, and I’m hardly proud of it. Not this last month but the two before it, I was definitely impersonating, uh, Lucifer.”

Dan glared harder. “So, let me get this straight. You were hanging out with _my_ kid, and I had no idea it wasn’t technically Lucifer there?”

Sam frowned and took a step toward the man. “To be fair, Daniel, it’s mostly the same DNA so, really, it was like _I_ \---a less interesting I, true---but like I was there.”

Daniel looked between both of them and swore in something terse and also Spanish under his breath. Ella’s eyes widened and even Chloe’s eyebrows raised. From the context clues, Michael was sure it was far from flattering. “So, it’s not enough to have _one of you_ ruining my life. The universe thought there should be two? What the actual fuck?”

Michael stiffened a little at those questions. To be honest, Father had designed him and Sam perhaps more than any other of the angels, after all the Demiurge had been fabricated to order to ensure that the universe itself could be made, that unification of Creation and Will. So, yes, in a way, the universe had thought two was better in their case.

Michael was less than sure on that score.

“Dan, really, it’s okay. I…Michael and Lucifer and I have talked it out. Michael apologized to Trixie for all the _Parent Trap_ crap. It’s fine.” Chloe said, perhaps glossing over how pissed off Trixie still was.

Perhaps she got that tendency to hold grudges from her father. It was clearly showing itself as one of the dullard’s least desirable characteristics and there were several to choose from.

Daniel shook his head and stomped over to him, his finger waggling so hard that it grazed Michael’s chest a few times. “You were near my kid without even letting me know who you were. What the Hell is that?”

Michael considered the dullard’s actions. Technically, his powers still worked just fine. He could smite a mortal if there weren’t rules against it. Daniel didn’t know it, but it was easier to keep up equanimity with nothing more than a mosquito buzzed around him.

“I’m sorry. My feud with Samael went too far. I…it was my fault. However, Trixie was always safe. You all were. It was a dumb idea, but it was about getting under Sam’s skin. It had nothing to do with any harm wished on any of you, I promise.” He finished his words by glancing over the dullard’s shoulder and staring directly into Ella’s wide, hopeful eyes. “And I mean to try and make it up to all of you. I can start by being useful and at least bringing the food.”

He started toward the stairs, but dear Father his right side ached so much. His stupid, betraying right leg shuffled behind him just a bit, try as he might to get it to cooperate, but Michael tried not to bow at that. If he continued trying to make a life here in L.A., he would have to be honest with all of them, even that idiot Chloe had married once. At least he and Sam could agree that Daniel Espinoza could quite literally drive a saint nuts. However, he needed to cooperate with Sam’s friends and associates. He needed to own the fact that, painful as it was, he wasn’t Samael, could never be, and that his body would sometimes be more sluggish than he wished it was.

Michael made it a few more steps before Dan snorted out a derisive laugh. “Doesn’t look like you’re that useful, man.”

He stilled, and it felt as if his body were just locking up. Michael stumbled and would have spilled to the ground if Sam wasn’t there suddenly, and one hoped not _too fast_ for human eyes. Dear Dad, would Amenadiel lecture on if Sam had moved like that. His brother steadied his weak right side and helped him to a desk. Michael collapsed more than he sat in the chair Sam pulled out. His left shoulder throbbed, and he felt something _ripple_ under the surface of his jacket in a way it really shouldn’t have around mortals.

His brother noticed too and looked a bit grimly between Michael and Daniel. “I…perhaps I can call you a ride and get you home, Mikey.”

He took in a deep, labored breath. “Yes, it might be best if---”

Dan was shouting now behind him and every uniformed officer and a few actual detectives in the building swiveled their gazes between him and Sam and the dullard. “So we’re just okay with yet more Lucifer weirdness and bullshit? I mean, no one invited you here, Buddy.”  
  


Sam stood tall and clenched a fist at his side, but before his twin could say a word, Ella spoke instead:

“Dan just shut the fuck up for five minutes.”

Michael turned his head as he took in deep breaths to force the spasms away. His wings had been out most of the late afternoon and evening. If he could just calm down a little, he’d be able to keep such eyesores away. Technically, they were still divine, bedraggled as they were, and if humans saw them, they’d probably be driven into religious fervor and apoplexy. Taking in another breath, Michael rubbed at his left shoulder as best he could. The ripples were lessening now that he was off his feet and could at least rest his back some.

As he rested, The Sword of God watched with rapt attention everything unfurling between the spunky forensic scientist and, has his twin had rightfully called it, the douche.

Dan looked incredulously back at Ella, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. “Are you serious? Ella, come on. You should be on my side. He tricked you too. He tricked _all of us_ , and I just…why is it I’m the bad guy for being upset not just about Lucifer’s bullshit but also about now his brother’s bullshit?”

Ella stalked up to him and, even on a man not nearly as tall as he or Samael, she barely made it up to his shoulder. It did seem to shame the dullard effectively. Dear Father, in her ire, Ella could have given Remi a run for her money as an avenging angel…well, except for the yellow baby chicken armed with a small switch blade on her shirt that had the bright, sky blue words, saying “not so cheap-cheap” under its feet.

It was so oddly Ella, both fierce and free-spirited, and he adored her for it.

“I’m telling you as someone who knows Michael better than you that you don’t get what you’re talking about. He played a prank. It was a dumbass, stupid prank, but, okay, I pulled one on Alejandro and my brother never grew back his eyebrows right. It happens!”

Michael gave a low whistle. He was invulnerable around all mortals, much to his relief. However, he made a mental note to keep his eyes on Ella Lopez anyway. Clearly, she was resourceful and had a penchant for torture and getting even that would have made Samael and perhaps even Mazikeen proud.

His dumb sombrero picture could attest to that.

Dan set his hands on his hips. “Well just because you and your brothers have a weird hazing thing going on---”

“I know you and Ana have a good relationship,” Chloe offered. “Sometimes, I think sibling things get out of hand in a lot of families though. Amenadiel and Lucifer had a lot of, uh, drama too.”

Michael arched an eyebrow at his younger brother. That was a way to put it. From what he’d managed to hear from the Firstborn at family dinners so far, Amenadiel had done far worse than Michael, himself, had. More than one human had died indirectly because of it. Then, of course, the less said about Uriel’s wrath (Linda had mentioned that one in a solo session), the better. Honestly, Michael was Sammy’s better brother, and even he knew that was a sad statement on their broken family.

“I just…two of them,” Daniel spluttered, as if that made a damn bit of difference.

Michael’s left wing finally seemed to stop bubbling and writhing under his skin. Thank the universe generally for small favors. Never his Father. As the tension in his wing eased, Michael was able to concentrate a bit better so he turned his attention toward the dullard.

“Despite my idiotic stunt, I am a very separate person from Sam. You can tell by how I’m actually quite good and conscientious with paperwork.”

Ella nodded and crowded Daniel even closer. “Michael messed up, but sometimes family crap gets to be too much, and people make crappy choices. He’s doing better, and if you have something that’s still bugging you about Lucifer, then you two hash it out. I dunno, man, go in the parking lot and take a few swings. Talk to another psychologist if Linda isn’t doing it for you. Do whatever, but you’re part of this team and _newsflash pendejo_ , now that Lucifer’s back so is he. That’s not changing so totally spank that inner moppet and get over this. It’s dragging us all down.”

She looked back first at Sam. “Seriously, dude, you two want to go and punch it out, that seemed to have worked for you and Michael. Go for it.”

Chloe’s eyes were wide, and she shook her head at Sam who looked seriously like he was considering the offer. “That’s _not_ an open invitation.”

Daniel---who seemed to have little self-preservation instinct---just snickered. “I think I could take Lucifer in a fight. Let’s get real.”

Michael couldn’t quite hide his smile at his twin. He knew Samael’s strength well, much to his own sorrow, and was beginning to have an inkling of the fraction of the power the Devil now wielded. The dullard would be smited before he could blink if Sam were the type to break that rule.

Well, more than once. But from what he’d put together on his own research and from family dinners, Cain really had freaking deserved the curb stomp he got. But that was a one-time occurrence.

“Well, Brother, perhaps don’t take Ella’s invitation too seriously. I’m sure your team needs Daniel in one piece for some reason,” Michael said drolly.

Dan glared at him, but Chloe grabbed her ex by the hand and yanked him to the break room. That was smart on the miracle’s part. Samael seemed more amused than actually annoyed by the dullard, but picking a fight with even a former archangel was far from wise.

Michael stood again, and he would have to sit in the lobby as he waited for his ride. He was far more wiped than he realized, and maybe walking all over a park for hours this morning hadn’t been his smartest move. “I think that spectacular bit of fireworks is a big neon sign I should leave.” He offered Ella a sad smile. “I…thank you for standing up for me. I think maybe Sam will have to get the refreshments himself. I---”

In a few seconds---honestly impressively fast for a human and a short one at that---Ella was before him and wrapping him up in one of her fierce hugs. “Don’t you dare! You’re not going to just bail now. I don’t care about the coffee or the treats or anything else. I just care about you!”

She punctuated her point by standing up as tall as she could on tip toe and wrapping her arms around his neck. Michael took her hint and leaned down the rest of the way and let her kiss him. Her lips were as soft as he remembered, her tongue as nimble, and he was panting and breathless by the time she pulled away. He was grinning broadly after that, perhaps looking as self-satisfied as Sam tended to just because it was a day that ended in “y,” but how could he not be?

It was only their third kiss, but the only one he could enjoy without guilt. The first one she’d given _him_ , and it was neither a shameful secret from Chloe Decker nor something he had to deny ever happened to help keep in the dark on Celestial matters.

Around them the precinct was clapping. Michael ducked his head, an errant curl falling into his eyes as he did it, as the applause progressed into a few wolf whistles. Ella grabbed his left hand in hers and nodded toward her lab. “We need to talk, okay?”

He assented and walked with her to her quarters, all the while blocking out Sam’s version of “helping,” which was mostly him congratulating them both and only semi-seriously encouraging the police force back to work.

Michael was certain he’d almost heard a joke about them being here all week and try the veal.

Oh yes, his twin the showman. Just not Michael’s style, and with Ella’s hand in his maybe, for the first time in eons, that was okay too.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Ella shut the door behind them, locked it (mostly to keep out Lucifer who would want to be helpful, she was sure), and put the blinds were down. She turned on a few lights but not all of them because she was not in the mood for a fluorescent glare right now. Then she sat down at her table, at the same seat where she’d been pouring hopelessly over the evidence. She watched Michael hesitate by the door, his eyes studying her shelf of religious items, especially her Virgin Mary candle and her St. Michael statue, while he seemed to wait for her cue.

She hopped up again and hugged him, giving him one of her Lopez specials.

“Hey, it’s okay, you know?”

Michael nodded even as he awkwardly threaded his arms around her back. “I wasn’t sure if part of that was just to get that dullard to leave or if you meant it or where we stand or---”

She pulled back enough to look up into his face and study his wide, panicked eyes. “I think we both have made a lot of mistakes, a lot of miscommunication problems so far, you know? I wouldn’t have dragged you here, if I didn’t want to really talk, Michael.”

“Good, and I know…as wonderful as your kiss was, Ella, I don’t want to deal with that right now. I mean, of course I would. It was amazing, but I know we have to figure out where we stand and how we go forward. We could make out a lot, and I suppose if I were Sam, I would suggest just a lot of groping as a solution for our problems, but of course, I am not.”

Ella chuckled. “Your brother has the craziest stories! Especially when he was dating Eve. If she hadn’t confirmed them, I would have called bullshit on half. He like broke into the aquarium and---” She blushed, realizing how bad that probably sounded.

Michael seemed to pale at that even as he voluntarily followed her to a seat. Once he was perched on a stool, she set her hand gently on his knee, nothing too intense, but enough to keep reminding him that she wanted him there. That they’d actually communicate for once and not just talk at each other and mess up.

“I know. Samael has a legendary reputation.”

She frowned, thinking over apparently Lucifer’s full given name. Very Biblical and perhaps more on the “el” theme with his brothers. Still, Lucifer really seemed like who he presented himself as, that oldest model for sin and carnal delights in the book. Something as ordinary as Sam didn’t really fit him. Then again, when Lucifer dug into Michael by calling him “Mikey,” that didn’t fit the stoic man before her either.

“I wasn’t…I just didn’t want him barging in and helping with matchmaking advice which, not gonna lie, hasn’t been that helpful.”

Michael chuckled. “Oh, you too?”

“Oh yeah, dude. I was pretty tipsy but he definitely nudged me on the big, grand singing gesture of course. Why wouldn’t he? But I am sorry. I wasn’t thinking, and I shouldn’t have done something to get pretty much all of _Lux_ focused on you.” She squeezed his knee softly. “I know you’re…the spotlight is the last thing you want, and I can get that.”

Michael nodded. “I think, however, I just got a taste of it anyway. The precinct is probably reeling that as the dullard so eloquently puts it _there are two of them_ , and you and I made out in the middle of everything.”

She felt her cheeks heat up. “I’m sorry. It was a heat of the moment thing. I just…after how we left it the last week or so…all the missed connections…I wanted you to know that as scary and crazy and uncertain everything is…I like you. I think I know a lot of who you are, even if you’ve spent _más too más_ time lying, buddy.”

Michael seemed to shrink on himself a little. His shoulders, especially his bad one, hunching higher. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I need to start this time,” Ella admitted. “I’m sorry too. I am really sorry I listened to Lucifer and did a full showstopper to try and apologize when that’s not something you needed. And I’m sorry for me.”

Michael sat up straighter and quirked his head at her. “Why would you ever need to excuse yourself?”

“Because I’m weird. I get it.” She sighed and forced herself to not mention Rae Rae or ghosts or the exorcism she’d lived through. That would make him run for the hills, even if she was one hundred percent convinced the three guys---Amenadiel included---had left some crazy family cult. It was even one thing to be a cult survivor. It was another to claim you spoke to the dead (one dead but still). “But I talk too much. I talk all the time, and that’s…sometimes when I talk that much things come out wrong.”

“I like when you talk,” Michael said, setting one of his hands over hers on his knee. It swamped hers entirely. “You have such interesting stories, and it’s like you light up when you talk about something you love. I…Amenadiel pontificates cause he’s the eldest. Sammy never shuts up because he loves the sound of his own voice.”

Ella giggled at that. It was as true a description as any for Lucifer. “You said it, not me.”

“Still true,” Michael said, winking. “But I…I do things. It’s how I relate to the world. When I was younger and still a soldier, I led the battalion I was assigned. When I was doing my accounting work, I went to calculating, no need for small talk with my coworkers. In my family there were so many siblings, and others like Azrael were also chatterboxes. I just let it wash over me. I don’t mind at all. And, like I said, when you light up like that, I’d listen to you just about this side of forever.”

“You’re good at lines, buddy.”

He shook his head, and it was still odd to see Lucifer’s face mostly save for a scar over Michael’s cheek and nose that probably came at the same time as the arm damage but to see a completely different person shining through. She was learning to deal with the hints of whiplash.

  
Right now, he was looking at her like she was some goddess again, like she was amazing and wonderful and special and all the things she never really felt being one of the boys and, honestly, the _crazy_ one of the boys amongst her brothers.

It took her breath away in the good way.

“Lucifer and I never… _you know_.”

Michael blinked and his hand almost pulled away from hers, but at the last minute he slipped it back over her own. “What?”

“I…see! I blurt. I just…I was thinking you probably were gonna think that cause Lucifer has like, totally true facts, slept with half the precinct and, well, maybe 2/3 of Los Angeles.”

Michael grimaced at that. “I was staying for weeks on the penthouse sofa. I mean, I changed the sheets when I got to town but that’s not reassuring.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t mention all the orgies he and Eve apparently hosted in their living room.”

If possible, Michael looked downright green. He said something quick and terse in a language Ella couldn’t place. It definitely wasn’t any romance language cause she’d taken a bit of Latin and a lot of French in college. It was pretty and lyrical and seemed almost too musical to be real. But he finished his exclamation and turned his attention back to her.

“Sammy and I are assuredly not the same person.”

“I know that, and I think I should get some props for getting that first, besides, uh, maybe Trixie.”

“Perhaps that girl has a bright future as a detective ahead of her too.”

Ella nodded. “I’m sorry that you burned your bridge there. She’s cool people!”

Michael smirked. “She has a lot of your same t-shirt choices.”

“Still better than cashmere. No possibly angry goats,” Ella replied, knocking his side with her shoulder playfully. “I just wanted you to know that we never…I mean, once he offered and I thought about it for half a second on a case. I mean _literally_ cause we were at a crime scene and it was weird? Like I kind of blanked for a second, but I so didn’t want to and I just was like ‘nah’ about it in five seconds.”

Michael’s eyes widened in surprise. “He asked?”  
  


“Yeah, but like I said, he’s asked like half the station by now. I think it was more a ‘hey, you’re the new person’ offer.”

“But you could refuse Samael when he solicited you?”

“You act like that’s weird. I’m sure even your brother has heard ‘no’ before.”

Michael quirked his head at her as if that weren’t possible. Okay, so Lucifer was all tall, dark, and handsome (as if Michael _wasn’t_ ) but he wasn’t so good at seducing people he was always said yes to. Was he? Everyone struck out once in a while. That was just life and the law of averages.

Weird.

“Well, that’s a big relief. I honestly _hadn’t_ thought that far ahead, but it’s really good to know that.”  
  


“Would it have been a problem?”  
  


He sighed. “I have enough to try and learn and compensate for without being compared to Sam, who has made fucking his way through Creation his life’s work. It would have been awkward, yes.”  
  


“See! Not a problem, and I didn’t…I don’t care that you’re a virgin.”

Michael removed his hand instantly and so fast she was honestly impressed by his reflexes. “But you said---”

“I care that I didn’t know not because I’m entitled to it or because it reflects badly on you. I never would think that. Clearly, you and your brothers had a messed up childhood and life before you all, uh, left home mostly.”  
  


Michael nodded. “You could say that.”

  
“And tells me that your dad and mom weren’t great parents or fair to you. That said,” she started, taking his nearest hand in hers. It happened to be his right one and she smiled as broadly as she could at him to let him know it was okay. Dear Big Guy, how he reminded her of her grandma’s pigeons, always trying to flap away at the slightest touch, even when they couldn’t. “I just didn’t want to mess up. I meant it; I assumed you’d had a lot of opportunities cause you’re about as hot as Lucifer and maybe appeal more to some people because you don’t brag all the time. Some girls and guys really love that strong, silent type!”

“I…oh.” He hunched his shoulders as if that were the first time he’d ever considered such a thing.

It occurred to Ella it was, that his sense of self was so wrecked that Michael couldn’t see himself as desirable at all. Man did Linda have a heavy docket with him too.

She sighed. “Yeah, I meant that I assumed you’d have a lot of girlfriends because you’re hot. I did _not_ mean it about your arm or you being hurt. If you think that would stop a lot of people from eyeballs with wanting to go out with you, you’re wrong, Mike.”

He considered her then even as he put his left hand overtop of hers. It was so very warm. “I…so you’re not…you don’t think less of me?”

She shook her head and kissed his cheek after that. “I think you and Lucifer and Amenadiel came from like this way abusive family and all three of you are learning to cope in very different ways. I mean, uh, Lucifer kind of uh---”

“Became a manwhore?”  
  


“Yeah, and Amenadiel is doing the family thing and maybe he’s decided he’ll be the opposite in every way of your dad with Charlie as how he gets through life, I dunno. He’s really good with the little guy.”

Michael smiled genuinely at that. “He truly is. I never would have…Father and Mother didn’t set the best parenting examples, and that’s putting it mildly.”  
  
“And you…I guess you just didn’t want to get close to anyone, and after what Lucifer did and I still don’t get how the guy I know and what he did to you are related somehow. I just…I know Lucifer sometimes has some rage issues but he’s not…at least to me he’s never been…and I’m sorry he hurt you.”

Michael quirked his lips in a small, sad smile. “It was a very long time ago, and we were so much younger then. I can see that fight’s changed him as much as it did me. It doesn’t make it better, but maybe it makes it livable? I don’t know yet.”  
  


“But if you coped by never really trying, I can get that, okay? Sometimes it’s easier not to be in relationships at all.”

Michael frowned at her, dark, unblinking eyes studying her too closely. “That sounds like it’s about you too and not just about me.”

“Well, to be honest, I haven’t had a serious relationship for like fifteen years, at least since college. I mean, I’ve had hook ups if I got I dunno…like just needed to take the edge off?” She blushed. “I sound awful. But with Frederico…things hurt so badly when they fell apart. It was easier not to try again because, he wasn’t wrong. _I_ was the reason our relationship was fucked up.”

Michael kissed her then, and for someone who apparently hadn’t done much of that either, he was a quick damn study. She was light-headed by the time he pulled away.

Then, he added, “I don’t believe that. If your college boyfriend was dumb enough to let you go, he was a world class moron.”

“I definitely wouldn’t say that.”

He reached out and stroked her cheek. “I would.”

She reached out and gripped her cross tightly. “I get it. This whole thing…we started weird. You were pretending to be Lucifer for the world’s dumbest revenge prank.”

“Guilty.”  
  


“And now we’re trying but I didn’t know that you were a you-know, erm…that you’d had so little experience and that’s not bad but I just…I’m worried _I’ll_ mess up, and you’ll think like ‘oh, that’s it, huh?’”

Michael blinked even as he kept stroking her cheek. “Are you serious?”

  
“Of course!” she exclaimed even though she leaned into his embrace despite her frustration. “What if you think ‘oh sex is meh’ because I’m not good at it! Or think that relationships aren’t worth it cause I’m weird and talk way too much and I have my own things I haven’t told you yet and, okay, I’m already bonkers cause I got so tired and strung out and basically accused you of being an angel which _loco,_ right?”

Michael set his other palm alongside her opposite cheek. “Ella, it is crazy to assume that already because I wouldn’t hold anything again you any more than you would me. Besides, I can tell already you’d be amazing.”

She tried to look away, but he held her there, so she had to look at him. “You’re probably better off not getting involved with me.”

“I could say the same thing. I think we both have a lot of baggage and damage and everything else, but I want to try, very much.” He set his hands on his lap. “I promise that I won’t ever screen you again. I won’t refuse to answer your calls or texts. I won’t just assume you meant the worst when we had a fight and shut down like I’ve been doing. It’s hard. I’ve spent a lot of my life hiding, just giving it all up because after I was hurt even my siblings only just say _through me_.”

Ella smiled up at him, and her heart clenched because she’d try and do her best and God did she want this. Something for herself, something that felt so right when it went well. But she was broken, and there was a timer on everything until Michael saw that too.

Until he realized she saw ghosts. Well, one ghost. Or was crazy.

Even now, Ella wasn’t quite sure which.

But she _wanted_ , and she was so lonely and so was he, and maybe that would last at least for a while.

“They were dumb to see through you,” Ella said.

“I…even Azrael...we were closest, but I left home way after Samael did, and I think she only likes me as much as she does because I always reminded her of Sam. I dunno, like I’m the lesser version.”  
  


Ella pondered on that. “You ever think that you’re both just you. And neither twin is better---”

“Impossible! There’s always a better one. I’m older and once I was stronger. I did everything Father ever asked and I should be better.”

“But?”

He smiled, and this time it was the saddest expression she’d ever seen. “For all my duty, for all my compliance---for how hard I tried---even now Father loves Sam best. I know it. All our siblings do. Sammy’s just better. And I’m his shadow, and that’s been true, I think, since about two minutes and thirty-seven seconds after I was born.”

She leaned up and kissed his cheek again. “I don’t see Lucifer here at all. I just…I want to try but you have to promise me something, Mike, please.”

“I’ll try,” he said, regarding her solemnly and with his earnest expression and his square jaw, she could almost see how he had been military somewhere in the past. It wasn’t a hard leap. “What do you want?”

“Don’t lie. I…I have things even Lucifer and Dan and Chloe don’t know about me, things I try not to talk about cause they hurt, but one day I’ll try and be open enough with you if we get there. But we started on lies, and I don’t think I can take it if you just keep shoving them in my face. Sometimes it feels hard to keep everything straight enough as it is in my life. I’m always trying to uncover, uh, what someone else has hidden. I don’t want to do that with you too.”

“Honesty then?”

She nodded and grimaced a little. “Yeah, and I won’t go weird and get a rando feather and accuse you of being, you know, not human. I must have passed out harder in the lab than I thought.”

Michael stilled for a moment, and Ella’s heart was in her throat as she realized that maybe the reminder was too much for him. That maybe he’d take the off ramp even now and avoid her _locuras_. But he finally offered her a soft smile and, standing with a bit of a struggle from the stool, swept her into a tight hug. “It’s fine. You were hurt and tired and it’s not true. Besides, I’ve had weirder ideas myself sometimes.”

“Yeah, and I get it. Lucifer is _just_ a method actor after all. He’s not the Devil and you’re not _that_ Michael, and I was really stressed. I’m sorry.”

He rubbed wide circles on her back as he drew her closer. “You’re forgiven.” Reaching down, Michael set his forefinger under her chin and primed her to look up at him. “I care a lot about you, Ella, and I promise to tell you all that I can, and I’ll give you time for whatever is eating at you so much too. Thank you for taking me back.”

  
She rolled her eyes. “See, you should so _not_ get wooing advice from Lucifer. You’re doing an awesome job all on your own.”

And with that, she leaned up and kissed him. The next couple hours flew right by with their hands and lips saying everything their words had failed to do earlier.


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're at the last chapter for now. There will be a sequel up toward the end of August, probably, dealing with Ella still on the feather/angel trail...

**Epilogue**

“Lucifer is late again,” the First Born grumbled as he prepared the chicken cacciatore from his domain in the kitchen.

Linda rocked Charlie on her lap and rolled her eyes back at Amenadiel. “It’s L.A., traffic is always awful. Besides, Azrael hasn’t popped in here either!”

Michael chuckled at that. “The Angel of Death is by far the busiest of all the Host. She’ll _try_ and be on time, but let’s not hold up family dinner for her.”

“Let’s make the same rule for Lucifer too, Linda. If we always wait for my late-running brothers and sisters, we’ll starve!” Menny added.

“Maybe, but you have time left, and we’ll get mad at Lucifer later,” Linda replied.

Michael laughed again. “So not Azrael?”  
  


“She’s probably involved in some horrible car accident or avalanche and ferrying the souls of the dead. Lucifer probably just stayed too long at Chloe’s, uh, playing checkers,” she said, looking down at her son.

He was almost ten months; the tyke wouldn’t yet know enough to know about bad words, but it was amusing to see a doctor---a therapist no less---start already in on the euphemisms for the boy. Michael was hardly his twin. He had no experience…well, not much more than eager make out sessions with Ella that were probably no more than things Trixie might have done with her first crush because he was new and just…maybe being at middle school levels of intimacy sounded dumb to anyone else, but Ella was so patient and kind. She was assuredly more than he deserved. That said, he did agree with Sam that there wasn’t much of a point in sheltering children from everything possible.

They’d find out eventually Father’s design was cruel and uncompromising.

  
Hadn’t they all?

“Maybe,” Michael conceded as the pans started sizzling in the background and Amenadiel turned his radio up.

“So,” Linda said. “You and Ella seem to be hitting your stride.”

“How can you tell? Has Sammy shot his mouth off?”

“No, although he’s oddly tickled by the whole situation, which is somewhat confusing since he sees Ella as a little sister too.”

“Yeah, well, no accounting for taste in Sam’s weird mind.” Michael couldn’t help the idiot smile from lighting up his face. “I…the last few weeks have been amazing. Part of me wonders why I ever hesitated in becoming involved with humans at all, why I shut myself off for so long. Then again, maybe it’s _just_ with Ella that things click as well as they do. I’m not sure. It’s great though.”

Michael looked down from Linda’s countenance to Charlie’s bright, cherubic face. Reaching out with his left hand, of course, he let his finger trail over his nephew’s cheek. “He’s so amazing.”

“Maybe, maybe not. At three a.m. after a feeding where he won’t stop saying ‘dada’ on a loop, he’s maybe _not_ the cutest baby in all of Creation.”

He smirked back at her and his heart fluttered a little when Charlie too his forefinger in such miniscule hands and brought it to his mouth to gum at. “Teething even more, huh?”  
  


Linda nodded. “Three so far and let me tell you _that_ is an adjustment. Are you sure you don’t want to try cradling him? We can probably get you set up with enough support on the sofa that---”

Michael shook his head but let his nephew chew away on him. “I wouldn’t dare. If I accidentally harmed him, I’d never forgive myself. I have my limits and perhaps being the affectionate uncle if not the fun, overindulgent one is for the best.”  
  


“I’m sure Lucifer likes Charlie.”

“Oh, I’m sure he does as much as Sam likes kids at all. He is rather eager for Charlie to become eighteen and eligible for something called a ‘Gentleman’s Club.’ I have avoided those too. Are they nice?”

Amenadiel swore in Enochian from his corner of the stove. “No, and he’s _never_ taking Charlie to one. It’s a strip club, Brother.”

Michael’s eyes went wide. Oh yes, Lucifer the Lightbringer, Father’s favorite even now, and the most beautiful of all the Host with his (sometimes) pure, white wings. Also, a complete manwhore. How unseemly for the world’s only Nephilim.

“Yeah, no worries, Menny, I’m on team not letting that happen to Charlie.”

Linda shrugged. “I don’t want to stifle his growth when he’s of age. I’m hardly one to talk, since I paid a lot of medical school debt by working a very special kind of phone line.”

Michael frowned. He wasn’t sure what she meant. “Huh?”

  
“Talking about _checkers_ was involved,” the good Doctor supplied. “Anyway, we have seventeen years to think that through. However, today, my baby is not going near a strip club or _Hooters_ or any other sign of Lucifer’s severely delayed adolescence.”

“Agreed!” Amenadiel called even as he started the pasta boiling.

Linda looked back to Michael, and he stilled. He knew that look in her by now, that shrewd appraisal that indicated he was talking now to his therapist more than an ersatz sister-in-law. “I think you’re doing the right thing.”

“To try dating? Honestly, the choice was up to Ella. I’m just lucky she agreed.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”  
  


“I’m jobless for now, have no idea which career path to take for this lifetime on earth, and I’m sometimes barely mobile on my bad days. I know how fortunate I am to have found Ella at all.”

Linda frowned. “Remind me for your next session to hit self-esteem hard, Michael.”

  
“What joy,” he deadpanned. “There’s not that much to be proud of. I’m the one who still can’t believe she said yes.”

“Yes, well,” Linda said, shifting Charlie’s position. Michael removed his finger so that she could set Charlie against her shoulder to burp a bit. “as your therapist, I think that taking such big steps to building a life here is excellent. As your family, mostly---”

“No doubt about that, Linda,” Amenadiel called cheerily. His voice and tone were solemn and sincere, but it was somewhat blunted in effect by the tall chef’s hat he’d donned.

Oddly, domesticity suited the Fist of God so very well.

Who’d have thought.

Then again, a monogamous relationship for once seemed to be up Samael’s alley.

How different they all were.

Hell, he’d always found Azrael had her own hard edges at least until the last few decades. Long ago, for all his affection for her, Samael had called their younger sister no sweet peach and that probably had come from the onerous nature of her work, but even she had brightened over the last years to always be relaxed instead of so dour while on the job. At home in the Silver City, she was always sweet and nerdy, but she’d definitely softened all the time now.

  
Was that just exposure to humanity’s doing?

Humans changed so fast while Celestials never did. It was one of the things that Michael had loved about earth to start with, even if he only lived alongside humans before, studying them a bit with an ethnographer’s curiosity, and, point to you Sammy, a bit of jealousy.

“Yes, I mean, as basically your sister-in-law, what I’m telling you is completely the opposite of what a therapist should tell you, but, then again, I don’t have to explain that this family is a very unique one.” She patted Charlie’s back again and he burped a little.

It was cute. And Dear Dad, maybe he really was a sucker for infants.

Michael nodded. “Okay, I don’t think I’m quite following.”  
  


Linda regarded him with those unerringly sharp eyes of hers. “A strong relationship is based on trust and honesty. You can’t ever truly have that as long as Ella doesn’t know who you really are.”

“I’m aware,” Michael replied, his tone clipped.

“But, as someone who got fried by the Goddess of All Creation---talk about a mother-in-law, ha---was someone Cain clearly considered torturing if he had to, and also almost lost her son to a demon uprising…this family is _a lot_. And it’s dangerous, and you know about Uriel and Chloe and how she almost died with Cain too. I just…I’m not saying Ella wouldn’t take that on if she was told. I’m just saying that Celestials are a lot of work and danger.”

Amenadiel turned down the burners and frowned at her. “I’m so sorry, Linda. You know Maze and I never let Charlie out of our sights and---”

She settled Charlie back in her lap. “I’m not saying that. I made that choice to deal with all the good, the bad, and the crispy and _keep_ dealing with it after your mother almost killed me. Ella’s an exceptionally good person, but I don’t know if you want that danger and target on her. To know is to be a source of information for whatever demon or paranormal human or angry Host or whatever sticks their noses in your business.”

“That’s a way of putting the crap Uriel brought here,” Amenadiel practically growled.

“But, that’s a lot to ask. She might be ready someday, but if this doesn’t work out for more mortal reasons, then it’s better…what she doesn’t know _literally_ can’t be tortured out of her.” She sighed and cooed down at her son. “I wouldn’t trade any of this for the world, and I know Chloe wouldn’t, but it hurts sometimes, and I think you have to see how this is going before changing Ella’s world so fundamentally.”

Amenadiel turned back to the cooking but he was a bit less jubilant than before. Michael could understand that. Linda had been through so many trials, especially for someone, who was tiny and defenseless even for human. She was fierce in ways that continued to amaze him but not physically a powerhouse. It must have scared Amenadiel terribly to almost lose her and then to be so close to having his son damned in Samael’s place.

What costs those were.

Michael sighed and looked down at his hands. “You’re right that as far as I’m understanding psychology, honesty is best usually.”

“So is keeping someone alive,” Linda countered. “It’ll come when it’s time, just don’t feel pressured to tell her right away. It’s a lot for any human being, even if she’s already a believer. It’s okay to take time.”

“I know and I just…I don’t want to hurt her.”

Linda nodded and stretched her arms out a bit so he could tickle Charlie’s nose a bit. How fascinating the Nephilim was, how utterly cute, and now he had to admit that the First Born had made such an adorable son. “I don’t think you will, but all things in time, Michael, promise us that?”  
  


He narrowed his eyes at her. “Is this for Ella’s sake or Charlie’s safety?”

She stilled a little, and he’d caught her. “Perhaps both. She’s a scientist too and---”

“I see.”  
  


“Just as someone who still has burns from your Mother’s craziness and has dealt with a lot of Celestial and Infernal scares, don’t rush it with her. And, honestly, let your brothers know before you do. It’ll help if we all have a plan with her, if it comes to that. Chloe and I will take her out for a lot of stiff drinks and get her up to speed as a Celestial insider when you do.”

Michael nodded and stood shakily. Heading toward the patio, he made the quick excuse of getting some air. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do or when, but as much as he resented Linda and Amenadiel’s ulterior motives, he couldn’t fault them either. After all, it _was_ dangerous, and if Ella died because of him, he’d never forgive himself.

Moreover, he’d already seen her stare at him with horror and confusion; he hardly relished repeating that with her and with a bonus show of his battered, ruined wings.

But still, as he slid out to the patio and the cool late afternoon air in Los Angeles (and really the smog wasn’t as bad as he’d heard), Michael sighed to himself and glanced up to the heavens. After all, didn’t it all circle back to Father? He who had made them as perfect soldiers and servants and then left them to fend for themselves when He grew bored of them. He who had left them woefully unprepared to navigate the earthly plane and understand how humans worked or that there was something to gain from interacting with them at all. He who had left them all scarred in some ways, but him and Samael utterly broken and monstrous, at least by Silver City standards.

He who had _never_ been there.

“Well, Father, I hope you like whichever corner of the multiverse you snuck off to. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do or how I’m supposed to date, which sounds crazy for a being billions of years old, but You’re not here anyway. I just…why did You ever do any of this in the first place?”

As always there was no answer.

But, before he turned back to the kitchen (he could tell by the shouting over how much garlic to add that Sam was here by now), Michael heard something in his head, just not the words of his father.

Instead, it was a small, errant prayer:

_Hey Big Guy and Mother Mary and, okay, Saint Michael too_. _I’m really glad Margaret’s done molting for now cause boy, I tell you, my bath tub? Not loving it. And I’m glad you are giving me strength for this serial killer case and the Santa Monica Sword Slayer. Man, the media really went hard on the alliteration, right? I just…I’m glad for so much right now---that my friends are happy too, that Lucifer’s back now, and for Michael…um, my Michael, and not the saint. Then again, you all knew that because of the whole omniscience thing, so, yeah. I just…thank you. Oh, and Margaret says thank you too._

It was silent after that, but Michael had to smile at Ella and her odd bathtub chicken hobby. At how perky she was in the face of horrors, at her resilience in general, and her everything. Perhaps it wasn’t quite fair that he could hear her prayers, and he maybe should have tried harder to block them, but they were so sweet, so reassuring, and for right now, he could use that.

Because he wasn’t sure where all this was leading, but, for now, he was happy to have Ella by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic had a lot of different inspirations. First, to Deia for suggesting Spreadsheet sheets, which are a thing. Second, to DifferenceEngineGirl, Chickie, and Azure for the suggestion about Ella's stick-em-up chickie shirt in the precinct scene. Third, just in general thanks to WTH for sprinting at night so I was motivated to keep working and also to fellow **Mi-Clowns** who enjoy Michael (and his varying fandom incarnations so far) as much as I do.
> 
> Finally, for those who don't know which movies/scenes Ella and Michael ripped off. Here are some Youtube links below:
> 
> 1) The cue cards were from _Love Actually_ \- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QyN9E08vFSY
> 
> 2) The boombox was from _Say Anything_ \-   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S5Y8tFQ01OY
> 
> Also this anatomy of a scene breakdown inspired me cause I felt that there is def a defiant kind of air with the way Michael does it to -   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAy8KkKfA3o
> 
> 3) Finally, Ella's not-well-thought-out-at-all song is an homage to _10 Things I Hate about You_ \-   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7N6kB11GpE
> 
> Again thanks so much for reading!


End file.
